


Flightless Bird,

by sinnah



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (credence is still abused), Credence Barebone Deserves Better, Eventual Relationships, Fluff, M/M, Newt wants to help, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9085246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnah/pseuds/sinnah
Summary: Newt Scamander did not see a boy worthy of abuse. He saw a flightless bird, and if nothing else, Newt was good at helping hurt creatures.
 
(an entire idea based around the fact that this takes place in the "roaring 20s" and I liked the idea of Newt Scamander at a fancy party, so that eventually happens even though barely, also crewt)





	1. A Marble, A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence watched his feet as he shuffled forward, following his sister.

Modesty Barebone walked quickly to the door to head out for the day, hoping that some pathetic soul would think that the Barebone children looked especially desperate that day, and maybe even feel bad enough for them to take a leaflet. However, not many would spare a passing glance, much less take one of the several sheets of paper from her or her siblings. Chastity was already outside, and Credence was a few steps behind her with his own armload of papers. He was trying his best to be cautious while leaving the house, as there had been no conflict thus far today. His focus on getting out onto the streets was the only thing keeping that vibrating darkness that he felt inside of him in check. He had gone a full few days without making some sort of punishable mistake. He even prayed last night that whatever miracle was taking place would continue. At this rate, the most recent lashings would fade into his hands almost completely. At this rate, holding things, such as the stack of leaflets, would stop hurting, the paper no longer stinging his skin. At this rate… He could almost forget the feeling of the belt against his flesh, but only almost. His body involuntarily shuddered; a small convulsion rippled through his body as he remembered these thoughts that he continually battled to force out of his mind. He felt weak for a moment, the dark _thing_ nudging at his being, as if to remind him of its presence. He didn’t need a reminder to be aware of his dark internal thoughts. He was always aware of them.

Credence watched his feet as he shuffled forward, following his sister. His downward gaze allowed him to see a small glinting marble on the rough wood floor. It was likely left out from some game Modesty had played. His face twitched into a soft smile. Maybe his prayers were working if Modesty had felt happy enough to play a game. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her smile, much less play a game. He stooped down to pick up the marble, hoping to pocket it. It meant happiness at this point. Credence didn’t even care how silly it felt to think that, he was too busy trying to contain his frenzied hope that maybe he would have a reason to be happy too. But even happiness wasn’t safe, and in this crouched position, everything went wrong. He almost didn’t notice it, but there it was, another marble. Modesty’s foot was right about to make contact with it. He couldn’t have humanly reacted soon enough, but his mind still raced. All too fast her weight was all the way on the marble and she slipped. Her balance was lost, and in an attempt to regain it, she flung her arms out wildly, scattering her papers through the air like sadistic confetti.

Credence flinched harshly as they fluttered to the ground. He was just too far from her to catch her fall, and the thud of the small girl hitting the floor made them both freeze in a sudden terror. Their heads swung so their eyes met in a wild gaze. They both know that the noise that was just made was entirely too loud. They both knew danger was just in the other room, poised like a cat with sharpened, blood-hungry claws. But only Credence knew what was going to happen next.

Credence tilted his head in a silent message to her, his sad eyes filled with something that Modesty couldn’t quite place. She only began to grasp it when she heard Mother’s footsteps coming in their direction, each step a deadly crash of thunder in their once-sunny little world. Credence stood hastily, and jerked Modesty to her feet, shoving his stack of papers into her arms, forcing her small shaking hands to grasp them. As she realized what he had done, she found it too late, too dangerous to protest. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes were suddenly overflowing with silent tears. Her face was hidden to their mother, who had just stepped in the room, almost crackling with an electric current of anger.

“Credence…” she says, her voice low and dangerous. He visibly winces, wishing even that she’d yell instead of using that tone. He knew what it meant. It had its own nightmare inducing meaning by the second time he had heard it. He had heard it often, much more often than he had heard her yelling. Even her most furious scream would by safer than this.

The happiness was over. Maybe God decided his prayers weren’t worth listening to. Maybe all the good things were just a coincidence. Certainly they weren’t meant to happen. This was right. This was routine. This, his mother’s anger, the feeling of his own belt ripping into his bare skin, this was what was right for Credence. He had known no hope before, of course he should be punished for thinking he could know it now. The world was black, and it shivered with a depressing excitement deep within his core. The clear glass marble burned hot and stupid in his pocket. It was just like the dark thing inside of him, telling him things without speaking. Telling him how foolish he was. It was mocking him.

He mouthed a single word to the petrified girl in front of him. Just one _please_ , and his emotion-drained dark eyes convinced Modesty to turn and rush out the door, choking back a sob that was surely too big, too full of emotion for a small child like her. She didn’t deserve this. He did. He knew that to the marrows of his bones. It was his gospel by this point. Instead of a book, he read his mistakes, his rights and wrongs, as told by Mary Lou Barebone. He read the scars that covered his body like a page crammed to the margins with writing.

His mother was halfway to repeating his name, he heard just the beginning of the word and he immediately whipped around to face her, a new wave of terror crashing over him as he stood in the midst of the scattered papers. He had made her wait too long. His skin was suddenly too hot, crawling like it was covered in ants. His hands fumbled to unlatch his belt. He finally got it unbuckled, and he pulled it off and handed it over as quickly as he could. The feel of the leather snaking across his hips and away from his body was all too routine. She had been waiting too long. It was going to be worse now. He had inconvenienced her even further. He thrust his hands out, exposing his palms. Too long. Too long. She was even madder now. A whole hive of hornets. A whole storm, not just the thunder. She laughed at him. His palms? For this? Her rage had boiled over at that point. It wasn’t his only his palms she was going to hit.

It was a quick beating; he still had to go and pass out the leaflets after all. Each lash across his back was thick and angry red. Each mark across his palms and arms was scratchy and overlapping with other marks, all bleeding quietly. He was almost surprised that no person on the street has noticed the blood seeping through his shirt. He shook his head. How ridiculous! How would anyone notice some detail about him if they never noticed him in the first place? There weren’t many people who were out and about to notice him shuffling around offering papers anyways. Credence looked around and saw that maybe only a few dozen people were outside walking someplace. He didn’t blame the people who decided to stay inside their warm, dry houses for doing so. It was a very grey day. And slightly rainy, but not rainy enough to call it rain. Just rainy enough that the top paper on Credence’s stack was damp. It was just wet enough outside that the moisture pressing against his body was irritating to his broken skin. He could almost smell the metallic tang of his own blood. Or maybe it was just the darkness inside of him telling him that he could.

He wasn’t sure if he was cold all of a sudden, or if he needed to find someplace to hide away from the commotion of his mind, but his feet hitting the pavement suddenly felt less automatic and it was getting quite a bit harder to breathe. He turned around, eyes soaking in all the grey, but there was not a monochrome building in sight that he recognized. How long had he even been walking? Surely not so long for him to get lost, but here he was and it was late in the day enough for his situation to be a concern. Credence found he could no longer move his legs, so he stood for a moment, waiting for something to happen. Something did happen. The skies opened up and the light drizzle turned into a violent pouring rain. With everything damp and blurred, he would definitely not get home before dark. It was much later than he had realized. Getting home late was bad. Mother would not like that. A thought crossed Credence’s mind. The thought was dangerous, so he immediately credited it to the dark angry void-like feeling that he kept in his chest. He could never follow its plan. Not going home at all would be much worse than just showing up late. Credence was unsure that he could physically endure the consequences of not going home. The thought struck a new chord, however, and Credence felt like he had no control of his own body as he slunk into an alleyway.

Credence scattered the papers he hadn’t noticed he was still holding, and sat down, slightly sheltered from the pounding rain, very cold, and absolutely terrified. His thoughts were so conflicted that he felt like two separate people. On one hand, not going home meant staying away from Mary Lou for a number of extra hours. It meant that if the dark thing in his body tried to show itself, she wouldn’t witness it, and couldn’t kill him for being a witch because of it. But on the other hand… this was why he was so bad in the first place. She gave him everything, a place to live, food to eat, and he disregarded all of that in favor of sitting outside in the rain, with his back bleeding onto the bricks of some unknown building, and his socks saturated enough to fill an empty glass.

That thing inside him, the darkness, it pulsed at these thoughts. Credence could see himself using it against her. How shocked would she be to see that in her own house? What if she fell like the building he took out last time the shadow thing took him over? She wouldn’t be expressing any emotion, any anger if she was dead. His damp hair slicked to the side as he ran a hand through it, thinking wildly. The flesh of his palm stung when it came in contact with the rain water. Credence’s eyes became rainy too. She hurt him all the time. She didn’t even know that he could hurt her back. He held his wrist to steady his hand as he watched it patch into the inky ashes that came when the potent shadow took control. He was shaking violently, and could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head when he had a thought that reeled him sharply. He couldn’t control himself when the dark took over. If he attacked Mother, that would mean attacking the church. If he was too powerful, he might end up hurting his sisters too. The sweet small face of Modesty came to mind. He could never show her this side of him. She didn’t need to see a witch in her lifetime, especially not one that was her brother. She would never see the monster that was inside of her brother. Credence could at no point in his life do that to her. His skin began returning to its normal color and texture while he started crying again. He had never felt more worthless. What if he had not been able to reign in the shadow and he had hurt her? All he was good for was bad. He must be a witch if he was this evil.

Credence couldn’t breathe again, so he did the only thing he could. He put his head between his knees and passed out.

When he woke up, he was not in the alleyway he remembered blacking out in. That was the first sign that something was amiss. The second sign was the building he was in the middle of. He was lying on his back, looking up at a cloudy, almost blue sky. Perhaps it was midday. Meaning he had spent the night in this building, which he identified as a housing building. The time of day was irrelevant, however, especially next to the fact that he could see the sky from inside the room. That was certainly not right. He shakily sat up, talking in his surroundings. His head pounded as he cataloged the rubble around him. There was no way this wasn’t his doing. At least the walls were already peeling and old looking. There was a certain empty quality that was heavy in the air. The place was abandoned, so he couldn’t have hurt anyone. When he passed out, the shadow must have taken over and done its deed. It felt quiet in his rib cage, likely sated by its most recent act of chaos. Credence thought he could hear the muffled voices of some men, maybe passing by, or maybe approaching. It didn’t matter either way, he needed to get away from his crime scene before someone found him and put the pieces together to realize what a monstrosity he was. As he stood up, a fresh swell of pain coursed through his body. Not even becoming the shadow thing could get rid of the deep welts across his back, it seemed.

Credence made his way to the street, but instantly left the noon crowds of people to tuck away into a new alleyway. He needed to think over these recent events. The rational side of him knew he needed to be calm and consider all of his options, but the emotional side of him was angry. Before he could control it, he felt himself grow furious. How could Mother have hurt him in the first place? He was hungry and tired and bleeding still, and it was all her fault. She was nothing. He could destroy her in a second. But he wouldn’t because of Modesty. He was also angry at himself. What had happened to his control over the darkness? He couldn’t even _feel_ anymore without starting to fade into ashes, which meant danger to anyone in the vicinity. He wasn’t even able to stay conscious to put up a fight last night. What if it wasn’t an empty building? He couldn’t live with himself if he became a murderer. He wouldn’t have much of a choice though if he kept this up. He couldn’t even believe the power he had sometimes. But surely if it was his power he should have some say in it. Was this what it was like to be a witch? Credence didn’t know whether he was a witch or a regular monster, but he did know he needed to reign it in with the frantic thoughts in his head. He was starting to fade again. He decided that for the best he would just never have any emotion ever again because the only emotions that seem to trigger the shadow’s takeover are negative ones and Credence figured he wouldn’t be having any sunshiny emotions. Not anymore. That one small glimpse of happiness was all he would ever get, it seemed. He dug his hand into his pocket. The marble was gone anyways. If that didn’t that just about sum up his life, nothing did.

 

Credence didn’t quite know how, and he wasn’t even sure he was quite conscious while doing it, but he made it home. Well, almost home. It was dark again but he could see the faint silhouette of the church building. He wondered if his mother and sisters were asleep inside. He hoped so.

Credence saw quick motion in his peripheral as he reached the green front door of the church. He whirled around with such force that he lost his balance and landed on his butt with his back hitting the front entrance. He winced in pain as he looked for the movement. Stepping coolly out of the shadows was a man.

He was _quite_ a man at that. He was imposingly tall and broad shouldered, with sleek dark hair that matched his sleek, dark outfit; a black suit. His hair was streaked with grey, however, suggesting that he had been through a bit of life. His face had a strange expression of intruding curiosity that was splayed across his heavy brows. His head was tilted slightly, and his dark eyes were inescapable. Credence didn’t understand the strange uneasiness he felt while the man’s eyes roved him. However, he did feel overheated, and felt his face flush. Something was off. Once the dark, suffocating eyes had taken in their fill of Credence, the man’s head tilted up in a motion almost unnoticed. His burning black eyes suddenly met Credence’s with such an intensity that he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. He was breathing again, not noticing that he had even been holding his breath.

Fluidly, the man stepped towards Credence, and extended a rough hand to him. Unsure of the hand’s intentions, wide-eyed Credence tentatively reached out to it, his hand appearing small and fragile compared to this stranger’s. Credence didn’t know what to make of the man’s crooked smirk as he was pulled to his feet, the rough skin of the man grating the scarred and sliced skin of his own. Credence watched the unfamiliar face contort in a small grimace of disgust when he comprehended the tactile terrain of Credence’s skin. He instantly replaced the look of revulsion with an attempt at a more accepting one when he realized that his expressions were being watched. Then the man shook his hand in an introduction.

“Good evening. My name is Percival Graves. You live here, correct? What is your name, boy?” His words alone would have been considered kind enough, but his tone let on something different, as if he was attempting to smother his aloof nature, but was failing. His words had a tone that Credence knew all too well. This man wanted something from him. These were not regular visiting hours for the church, yet the dark stranger had been waiting here. Credence was shaking slightly, not wanting to think any more about the intentions of the man.

“Cre-Credence, sir,” he managed to squeak out, looking at his feet. He wanted desperately for Mr. Graves’s eyes to leave him. He felt swallowed by the exchange, but was even more unnerved by the coldness he felt when Mr. Graves let go of his hand. He then ran his fingers smoothly under Credence’s silky jaw, bringing his gaze back up so their eyes would meet. Credence felt his traitorous body lean into the touch, his chest practically purring. As soon as the abrasive hand was withdrawn, Credence felt a wave of heat and nauseousness crash over his body. He didn’t trust this stranger. He didn’t like this stranger. So why did he already miss the warmth of the brief touch? Credence almost shook his head trying so desperately to clear these thoughts. The whole interaction with Mr. Graves felt wrong. Sickeningly wrong. Wrong so that Credence’s head swam and he felt like he would pass out. Wrong so that the dark thing in his chest was excited. Wrong so that the evil shadow he kept hidden wanted to emerge. Wrong so that the devilish swirling blackness in his ribs thought it was _right_.

He had to suppress this wild danger. He had to escape this man. He stumbled backwards until he slammed into the door for the second time that night. Mr. Graves’s sultry black eyes widened in surprise at this. He seemed so have expected the quiet submission that Credence had shown before. The shaking boy took a small victory at surprising the man who thought he had the upper hand. But before he could really relish in this, the cool expression was back, and Mr. Graves was speaking again.

“You live here, correct?” he began, not even waiting for Credence’s answer to continue, “I know your mother beats you, Credence. I can help you as long as you help me… you know you’re special, Credence” he drawled. He and Credence both flinched at the sound of movement inside the church. Someone was awake. Mr. Graves spoke quickly now. “I know you must want my help, Credence, and I need yours, but I am not asking for anything just now. I only wish for you to consider my offer.” At these words he turned around and began walking away.

The sound of creaking just inside the door caused Credence to change his focus for only a second, but when he looked back at the place where his stranger just was, there was nothing but shadows and the dull light of the streetlamp. It was his turn to be surprised.

The noise on the other side of the door returned, and Credence stepped back with his head down while it opened.

“No, Modesty, I just thought I heard- Credence!” Chastity’s voice was just above a whisper. Her eyes were instantly misty as she swung the door open further to reveal herself and Modesty. Credence, immensely grateful that the person behind the door wasn’t Mother, stepped into the church. His sisters enveloped him in a hug. This contact, he thought, was much better than that of a strange man in the dark. But even later, when he had cleaned himself up a bit and had eaten the leftovers Chastity had saved for him, his thoughts still drifted back to “Percival Graves” and what he could have possibly wanted from him. He didn’t know what a stranger like that could want from the church, either. He didn’t seem like the typical type to have interest in their cause. Yet something had attracted him to the church, in the middle of the night, even. He squirmed under the itchy blanket and closed his eyes as tightly as he could. Credence didn’t know what Percival Graves wanted, but he also didn’t know if he wanted to find out. There was something very off-putting about him. Something about his very being was distressing to say the least. Credence tucked even further into himself, curling up in a tight ball on his bed. He was so very tired. He wanted the sleep that evaded him. He tried to clear his mind, but he hadn’t even considered yet what Mother would do to him in the morning. Sleep did not come easy to Credence, but eventually his breathing evened out, and his mind cleared. And Credence had a dreamless sleep for the first time in a very, very long time.

Credence’s next day was off to a fun start. After being beaten hard enough to cough up blood, Credence found himself washing dishes as the New Salem Philanthropic Society held some sort of rally in the middle of the city. He felt guilty for it, but he was immensely glad he wasn’t out standing around hoping a large enough crowd would stop to hear out the chaotic Mary Lou. Besides, even quietly doing dishes had his bones aching. He had planned on going immediately back to bed as soon as he put the final dish away, but this dream took a detour at the sound of a sort of popping sound. Credence was startled, having thought that he was quite alone in the church. He peered into the next room to be startled once again at the sight of a man standing at the base of the stairs.

Percival Graves was wearing yet another dark suit, and standing nonchalantly, barely acknowledging Credence, as he was too busy looking at a handful of different leaflets.

“Um… Mr. Graves, sir, I hope you haven’t been waiting here long, the society is out holding a public meeting, sir,” Credence managed, hoping his voice sounded stronger than he thought it did.

“I know, Credence, which is why I came here…” he said in his low voice, his gaze finally leaving the papers to meet Credence’s. He tucked the pages into his coat pocket, stepping towards the confused boy.

Credence could hardly hold the intense stare, not while he began shaking again, and his heart stuttered in a scared throb. He was uneasy, but somehow felt an acute sense of excitement. His gaze dropped to the floor, but he willed himself to bring his eyes back up to meet Mr. Graves’s.

“Credence, I think I owe it to you to explain a few things about how I could help you, and how you could help me. Do you suppose we could go somewhere and talk, Credence?”

As soon as Credence nodded, Mr. Graves stepped forward again, taking the arm of the very startled boy, whose pained yelp was cut off by a sudden swirl of something Credence almost knew, accompanied by the same popping noise as before. The spot they had previously occupied was empty. As Credence opened his eyes, standing in a place he had never been to before, he decided that he and Mr. Graves had quite a bit to discuss after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got here, hey! This is my first work, and I'm excited! To anyone who wants to know, (probably just Ebby, hi Ebby!) I plan on getting the next part up before Monday, so that's that. In general, I plan to update every 5ish days because I don't really know how long this whole thing is gonna end up being. Anyways thanks for reading. :)


	2. A Beast, A Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt Scamander couldn’t exactly say that his trip to New York had gone exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't even mean for most of this to happen this way, but I was more along for the ride than in control of this chapter. Also I apologize in advance for the point of view switches in here, I really wasn't planning on switching in the middle of the chapter like I did, but I had to either do that, or have one of those explanation type areas later so that both sides of the story made sense and I don't particularly like those. :/

Newt Scamander couldn’t exactly say that his trip to New York had gone exactly as planned. He had _planned_ on taking Frank to Arizona and then heading back home, but now he wasn’t entirely certain yet that Frank wasn’t one of the several beasts of his that were escaped from his case. Worse had happened, regarding his beasts, but he was still struggling (though doing his very best) to be absolutely optimistic about the situation. That became increasingly harder as now he and the muggle Kowalski were sat in beds in the apartment of the Goldstein sisters.

The one that had tried to arrest Newt, Tina Goldstein, nudged open the door to the bedroom, holding a tray with two steaming mugs. Newt was not impressed, while the muggle was entranced by a spoon self-stirring the contents of the mugs. Newt almost rolled his eyes, but decided perhaps that would be too much, as the worst Jacob had done was force Newt to sit through an uncomfortable dinner where the muggle and the legilimens Queenie flirted shamelessly. Tina on the other hand…

“I thought you might want a hot drink?” she said tentatively. She handed one to the enthusiastic Jacob Kowalski and tried to convince Newt to accept the other cup. She set it down on the night table after a moment, then turned and walked to the door as if to leave. She shook her head with a sudden conviction, her short black hair bouncing back and forth.

“No, actually,” she said as she turned back around to face the room, “Mr. Scamander what is your problem? You realize you’ve committed a crime right? Even if I’m not an Auror right now… you can’t really be mad at me for trying to do my job, right? And at the worst of times, really…” she trailed off, waiting for any kind of reaction from the sulking man.

“ _Actually_ ,” Newt began, sitting up slowly, roused from feigning sleep by the tone that Tina had taken against him, “I would rather like to know what I’ve done so terrible. I really would like to go out and get my creatures back, you see? And I can’t quite do that here, now can I?” he continued with a mix of irritation and ill-disguised concern in his voice.

“What’s so terrible? Gee I dunno, Mr. Scamander, you have chosen probably the most inopportune time possible to show up here like some kind of hooligan with a basket case head and a basket full of monsters! Do you realize the city is already being terrorized by some kind of beast? Whether you were involved in that or not too is irrelevant but can’t you see how bad this could be? The Wizarding World is risking exposure because of this!” she rambled on, fueled by an immense force of stress, but her outburst seemed to deflate her anger a little. At least Newt thought so. The sudden exasperation in her voice certainly put a damper on Newt’s animosity.

“Perhaps then, I could be of some assistance, as I happen to know a bit about beasts, but as of right now… my priorities lie nowhere except getting mine back,” Newt mumbled weakly, put off a little by the passion behind Tina’s shouting. He was sorry for her problems, but nothing could bother him as much as his creatures being out and unsafe amongst the dangerous masses of people. Humans, nasty buggers, really. Newt didn’t want to get worked up and emotional, but the thought of any one of his friends being harmed made his eyes blurry. Newt wiped his face quickly. Tina seemed surprised at this, and Newt couldn’t even look to see the shock that was surely on the muggle’s face.

“Mr. Scamander I’m sorry. I’m sure we’ll find your beasts…” Tina’s voice was soft this time, no longer commanding any authority. She stepped away from the door as Queenie slipped into the room, drawn by the commotion.

“Oh dear, sweetheart…” Queenie said in her sugary voice as she sat across from Newt, on the edge of the bed Mr. Kowalski was on, “Dear, they will all be okay, I assure you. If Tina is on a mission she always gets it done, and well at that!” Queenie’s smile was excited but her eyes were gentle.

“You-?” Newt began, turning back to Tina, “Do you actually plan on helping me find my creatures or do you plan on turning me in again as soon as you can get me off your hands?” He sniffled, and wondered just how pathetic he looked in front of these people.

Tina looked conflicted at this, but when she turned to Queenie for help, all she got was a very pointed look. Past her, Jacob Kowalski looked absolutely unhelpful as he sipped his hot cocoa, trying to keep up with all of the conflict.

“I won’t turn you in. I probably don’t have good standings at my job right now anyways, especially interrupting that meeting like I did. What the heck. If I help you though, you have got to help me figure out the attacks in the city. Maybe if I can figure out they’ll see what a mistake they made to put me in the doghouse” Tina said, laughing slightly, the glint in her eye firing up with excitement at the prospect.

Newt was elated. Maybe this whole ordeal could turn around. Sure, he had already spent a bit of time off course of his plans, but perhaps this trip would turn out good. His gaze drifted to the muggle, who was contentedly still sipping his drink, with a happier expression this time. What would become of him? He was a nice fellow, but now that new plans were set, would they obliviate him and send him out to the streets?

“Oh no, Mr. Scamander,” Queenie said, turning from her quick conversation with Tina, “Jacob might as well be one of us now,” she continued with her typical wide smile, turning to gaze into Jacob’s eyes thoughtfully.

Newt mumbled about not wanting his thoughts read, but his voice was drowned out by a new conversation between Queenie and Tina about Jacob. Tina was still concerned that he was a muggle and she didn’t want to be a criminal any more than she had to while helping Newt, but Queenie was fixed on the fact that “Of course he’s coming, we absolutely will not just put him out on the streets, Teenie! He could be a squib for all you know!”

Jacob finished his cup of hot chocolate, and decidedly reached out to shake Newt’s hand.

“Jacob Kowalski at your service to catch up all those weird things in your case, no matter what those two decide” he said, smiling lopsidedly, kind of gesturing at the bickering sisters with a laugh.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jacob, I am Newt, er– Newt Scamander, the very grateful man with the case full of ‘weird things,’” Newt smiled at the floor. He looked up again to offer his cup of cocoa to Jacob. He was more of a tea person, really, he mentioned. Jacob accepted it with a chuckle and a comment about ‘Brits, yea?’

The sisters’ arguing had stopped. Queenie looked triumphant and Tina looked exasperated.

“It seems we will be both taking time off work for a family emergency and Jacob will be accompanying us to find the missing beasts. Whether he remains company while investigating the magical attacks is yet to be determined. We will see.” Tina said this with a new particular shine in her dark eyes, her head tilted affectionately towards her sister. “Now _really_ , we all ought to be asleep. Big day tomorrow, huh?” she concluded. She and Queenie both left the room, Tina casually, and Queenie with a sort of unintentional flourish. As soon as they were out of the room, Newt hopped to his feet, startling Jacob.

“Jacob, before we go out tomorrow, I believe I should show you what’s actually in my case,” Newt huffed, excitedly preparing his suitcase on the floor. He flung the lid open like a child opening presents on Christmas, and then much to Jacob’s surprise, Newt climbed inside the suitcase, entirely disappearing from view.

“Come now! Oh! And I meant to ask you, how did your bank interview go? Are you getting your bakery?”

In this sequence of events, Jacob went on the tour of his life, and afterwards went to bed in a cozy room; the same room as a man he had decided was the most interesting person he had ever met. Newt was asleep, having mentioned wanting the morning to come faster so the day could start. Jacob, having only just minutes before coming to terms with this whole crazy ordeal not being a dream, went to the land of dreams for real, tucked under a magical blanket. Or maybe the blanket was a regular blanket. It didn’t matter to Jacob. Everything was starting to feel like magic.

After the hearty breakfast that Queenie had deemed necessary, the odd little group headed out. Luckily for Newt, this meal was exponentially less awkward after they had all seemingly come to a sort of silent agreement on the previous night. They were out on the streets, hoping to find a place that could potentially house a “medium-sized creature that likes broad, open plains.” Tina, Queenie, and Jacob, the residents of New York, figured their best bet would be Central Park. And so to Central Park they went.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------

Credence had been distracted all day, thinking about magic. Even thinking that _word_ was self-indulgent and exciting to him. Mr. Graves said he was special, but Credence had no idea that special meant _magic_. Mr. Graves would teach him magic. Mr. Graves was a wizard! (Not witch, it turns out. Apparently witch was only for magical ladies. Oh, but it was almost funny for Mr. Graves to have to explain it.) Mr. Graves had shown him magic, apparating them; that was a new word. How could he have even thought that the dark stranger in the night could have possibly been a bad person? Well, he supposed that if magic was evil, and Mr. Graves was a wizard, that in turn made him evil. But then Credence was evil too. He had found it startlingly easy to come to terms with that. Mr. Graves was _good_ , even if he was evil. Which didn’t really make a lot of sense. But it made sense to Credence, and that’s what mattered.

Even when Mother gathered him and his sisters for an exciting trip to the huge news building, Credence’s mind was elsewhere. Somehow Mary Lou Barebone’s campaign had caught the interest of the senator’s brother, who would take them to his father. That thought barely registered in Credence’s mind, however. He couldn’t focus on irrelevant Second Salem work when Mr. Graves promised to take him away from that place and teach him magic as soon as Credence found the magical child among the orphans that came to the church. Maybe now that he knew a little about how witches worked, it would be easier to spot one.

Credence was still swept up in fantasies of magic and hope as the Barebones were led into the big office room of Henry Shaw Senior. He immediately felt a sense of unease in the presence of such natural authority. The room was tense and the air was thick with the superiority wafting from the senator and the senior Henry Shaw. Credence’s whole body was suddenly buzzing, and his ears rang. Worse, though, was the dark thing vibrating again, filling his lungs and chest. He thought his head might have moved then, or his hands were visibly shaking. He was stifled by the air in the room. His body was going through routine inhales and exhales but Credence was not breathing. He wasn’t able to listen or pay attention at all to what was happening in the office, too focused on regulating his pounding pulse and uneven breaths. His body felt like it was heaving intakes of air, shaking and twitching all over, hot and cold at the same time. Credence was only brought back out of his episode of _something_ by his mother and sisters turning to leave. He made to follow them, not quite sure even how the whole ordeal went as he turned from the room. He felt as if he was stepping out of a dream when he was stopped by the static snap of the senator’s voice. Credence was still trying to be certain that it was even him that Senator Shaw addressed, when the authoritatively towering man stepped up to him, holding a leaflet. The gears in Credence’s brain worked quickly to deduce that he had been called back for dropping the paper.

It would have been simple for the senator to simply hand Credence back the paper, but no. Credence felt something inside him break as he eventually turned away from the office. Freak? Had he really just been called freak? Was he dreaming? No, Credence knew he couldn’t be dreaming, he was just a freak. Before he could break down, or even consider the other comment, about belonging in the trash, he simply took Modesty’s outstretched hand and followed after Mother. He would be upset later. Everyone took him for some kind of weak little boy. The evil inky swirls in his chest felt like they were hissing in his ear. He was powerful too, just in a different way than Senator Shaw. The darkness twitched at this thought. Maybe, Credence thought that maybe he would show the senator just exactly what he was capable of. Yes, he decided. Or rather, the shadowy thing decided. It was whirling around underneath his skin, making him almost queasy. He wouldn’t really have a choice. It was no longer a matter of whether to let the anger take over, it was a matter of holding off the fading of his skin until he could creep away from everyone and let it wash over him like a warmth. His eyes rolled back and he had no time to hope that he would have enough control to not actually kill anyone.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------

Newt was pleasantly surprised by how well his morning had gone. They had managed to catch all but two of his beasts (with only _slight_ difficulty), though he had a suspicion that the two were together, so when asked how many beasts were left to find, he had said one. It wasn’t the truth, but he figured it was close enough. Seeing how Tina, Queenie, and Jacob had found the experiences with the beasts startling, Newt didn’t want to dampen their spirits. One beast would sound a lot easier than two to them, especially after Newt saw each of their separate reactions to the contents of his suitcase. Jacob had taken it the best, actively excited by the creatures. Tina was too concerned with the legality of the contents, and Queenie was almost oblivious to the interestingness of anything, treating it almost too casually. Newt would’ve preferred that all people reacted like Queenie before coming to New York, but after seeing Jacob in complete awe of even the more common of his uncommon friends changed the whole game. Newt was inspired by such a reaction, and was considering whether he would be able to interview Jacob for his book, or whether Tina wouldn’t allow such.

Newt was content in his bubble of thought until his arm was grabbed, pulling him physically to a stop, as well as pulling him out of his head. He hadn’t realized that he allowed himself to get so distracted, but Tina was scolding him for trying to wander off. They had stopped walking and were standing, staring at something with varied levels of fear. Newt turned to look alongside them. Oh. A massive building was crumbling. Well, not crumbling entirely. The damage was at a room at the top of the building. Bricks and such were tumbling to the ground from the site, but the rest of the building stood regal and pristine. It was daytime, so what could have struck? Newt was putting the pieces together that this was likely one of the magical attacks just as Tina decided to stop standing with her jaw hanging like a hunting snake.

“Mr. Sca- ah, Newt…” she began, “These are what the attacks look like. You may not know this building, but this is a very important no-maj news company. The no-maj senator’s father runs it, so the senator is here often. That area that was attacked was probably where the important people were. So… Any thoughts?” she said, turning away from the frenzied mass of muggles and the otherwise peaceful building to face Newt. Queenie and Jacob had already made their way into the crowd, Queenie having mentioned finding out a little more.

“Well I very much believe it was not a beast. In daylight like this, with all these people around, it’s not likely for a creature to attack. Not unless that creature was cornered or had a specific agenda, going by the precise attack on just that one portion of the building there. So you’ve either got a malicious group, or a real enemy.” Newt said, eyes still roving the building. He stepped away from Tina, who stood frozen, seemingly thinking hard.

Newt noticed a few muggle policemen, and weaved through the crowd to be near one of them. They would be asking questions to witnesses, and Newt wanted to hear what the muggles thought they had seen. He spotted Queenie and Jacob standing just a few people away. He felt a growing worry at the expression on her face. She had one hand on Jacob’s arm, and when she looked up and noticed Newt, she pointed towards the building, and tilted her head as if to tell him to follow her as she led Jacob away from the masses of people. She figured something out, it seemed.

Newt tucked his suitcase tighter under his arm and squeezed through the tightly packed and quite rambunctious crowd. He shot “sorry” off left and right as several people grumbled at him for disturbing them with his movement. He eventually made it out of the masses of people and over to where Queenie and Jacob, and now Tina were conversing. It was so loud in the crowds that Newt couldn’t have heard his feet hitting the ground even if his shoes were made of metal. The number of people all packed in the street outside the building made Newt want to crawl in his case and hide. Though socially speaking, that was not really an option.

Newt stepped towards them, attempting to join the conversation when something in his case let out a full, reverberating growl. A few muggles standing close-by turned with eyes almost popping out of their sockets at the sound. Newt cringed at the sudden attention and faced the ground in the general direction of the muggles.

“Uh, awfully sorry, that was, uh, my stomach,” he explained hastily, turning back to his group. Jacob looked amused, not having payed much attention to Queenie and Tina’s conversation. Newt allowed himself a small smile, but ducked his head in embarrassment anyways. Newt’s case was not done acting up, however, and the latches started popping. Newt dropped to the ground, closing one latch only to have to switch to the other. Newt was receiving even more attention now, and considered letting the case open so that he could get away from all the stares he felt. After wrestling the suitcase for much longer than he had planned, Newt stood up panting, pressing it to his chest tightly. Tina had stopped speaking again, staring at him in disbelief.

“We can’t take you anywhere, can we Newt?” Tina said, her face expressionless. Newt felt a metallic pang in his heart. He felt like he was drowning. She turned to Queenie, but reached out to grab Newt’s arm again. “You should see if you can figure out where we can get more information, but be quick because no doubt Aurors will be here soon. Meet at home.”

And at that, Tina apparated them to a side street near the apartment building. Newt was trying to figure out the situation. Did he need to apologize? How does one apologize for that? Sorry that my beasts are anxious? He shook his head, earning a strange look from Tina as she led him up the stairs. No, not that. Was she going to yell at him? They made it to the door, and after Tina led him in, he made to say _something_ , but he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I- just. I didn’t mean, you. Um. I think I ought to go see what was bothering them.” He managed to tell the floor just in front of Tina’s feet. He then set the case on the ground and went into it, his movements robotic and his head racing. Oops. That wasn’t what he had meant to say. Newt scolded himself silently for not even managing an apologetic sentence. He went around visiting all of his different creatures. The atmosphere was calming. It was good in here. Most of the beasts he had didn’t mind if Newt made a strange noise or did something socially weird. Why couldn’t people be as accepting as mooncalves? Newt didn’t know the answer, but it was okay. The mooncalves didn’t ask for an answer. Neither did the occamy chicks. The bowtruckles didn’t care if Newt was weird. Several deep breaths got Newt back to where he wanted to be. He felt immensely better, but not ready to go back out of the case. He figured he should, though. He still needed to help figure out what the attacker was. He did make a promise after all. Newt felt a twinge of guilt for having hidden away without even talking to Tina. He didn’t know if she was even mad. He pulled himself out of the case on the wooden ladder. When he re-entered the Goldstein’s apartment, he found Tina over in the kitchen area, making tea. He quietly sat on the couch, not knowing how to speak first. When she noticed him, she didn’t look angry at all. That was surprising. Newt figured maybe he overreacted, though he was at least grateful to have used an excuse to visit his case. He wasn’t with his creatures as often as he wanted to be recently.

“I’m sorry, Newt. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, I just was worried about the muggles being suspicious and then MACUSA finding out about you. I don’t want you to get in trouble, I see now, that you…” she paused to join Newt on the couch and to hand him a cup of steaming tea, “you’re really a good person, Newt, and I don’t think they’d understand you and your creatures.” Her voice cracked, and Newt startled, turning to face her. Her eyes looked watery, and Newt had absolutely no idea what he should do in such a situation. So as a British man, he solved his problems by taking a sip of tea. It was aromatic and sweet, but had a citrus-y hint that reminded him of the way Tina’s eyes sparkled when she was excited. Now it was Newt’s turn for watery eyes. She had worried about him and his creatures. Newt was no special man, but Tina was a good, kind person. He couldn’t figure out why his heart felt crumpled like a piece of paper, but he heard Tina sniffle, and could comfort her the only way he could think of.

“This tea is absolutely lovely. You… you should show me how you make it sometime.” He forced himself to look away from the delicate blue teacup and up to Tina’s face. She sniffled again, and turned to face him as well. She smiled. Then she laughed. And Newt laughed too. What a good person she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks for reading if you got down here. I really thought Newt and Credence were gonna meet in this chapter but they will meet for sure in the next one (which I have already started). A lot of this feels like its following cannon and I don't really mean to but I felt I had to set it up right so I could make it work. Because like if Credence had attacked the Senator instead of the building, thus killing the Senator, my whole next chapter and how it plays out to allow things I need to happen would be screwed. 
> 
> Anyways with that aside thanks for reading and I plan on putting the next part up by Wednesday, which feels like a long time, and hopefully I'll have it up before then, but my school gets back Monday so I want to be sure I'll have it up by when I say I can.


	3. A Bird, A Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt wasn’t articulate in understanding his emotions, but he knew it when his heart broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took FOREVER to write bc stress that it wouldn't be good enough so hope u like it i guess

Queenie and Jacob had not been back for more than five minutes and Newt’s head was already swamped with information and buzzing like a billywig. If all of these muggles truly saw what Queenie said they saw… then it meant bad news for New York. Newt didn’t want to believe his own answer, but after sifting through possibility after possibility in his head, he found no other suitable conclusion. It had to be the doing of an obscurial. Newt _really_ didn’t want to believe that.

He looked up from the spot on the couch that he had all but sunk into. Tina was pacing back and forth, appearing to be doing her best to soak in everything that Queenie was telling her. Even Jacob was contributing, his voice never exactly interrupting the always anticipating legilimens who was more than ready to give Jacob space to speak. Newt was trying to focus on what they were saying, but the more he tried to pay attention to the sounds they made and the words their mouths formed, the less he could understand them. Newt had figured out a long time ago that this physical inability to listen came when he worried. That’s why he did his best never to worry. But if it really was an obscurial…

Newt noticed that the talking was dying down. It seemed they had figured out whatever detail about the attacks out. Tina said something, but Newt only caught the sound of his own name, still muddled in his troubles. All three of their faces turned to look down at Newt. Oh dear, Newt thought, they must have asked him a question. Should he just give an answer or ask Tina to repeat herself? He felt that maybe it was a little too soon to be a bother. He shook his head, hoping that whatever they said, he had picked the right answer.

“All right, since Newt isn’t sure, and we can get more information by going, we shall go!” Queenie said, smiling and hopping in place. She winked at Newt and nodded her head towards Jacob as she spun Tina around and led her out of the room with her hands on Tina’s shoulders.

Newt was absolutely stunned. In a matter of seconds he had made an entire decision that seemed to be immediately affecting all of them. Standing, he turned to Jacob with an expression of incredulous shock. Jacob just gave him a funny, knowing smirk and waved his hand in a “follow me” motion before heading off to the borrowed room they had shared. Newt couldn’t have been more stunned if he had been hit with a stunning spell. Since when did Jacob read minds? Newt reminded himself to tell Queenie to stop rubbing off Jacob, or else Jacob would be in the know and Newt would be the _only_ one not knowing what was going on.

“Merlin’s beard!” He whispered, trailing after Jacob. Upon entering the room, Jacob was pulling on the jacket of his suit. Were they going out? Newt glanced at the window to see that it had grown dark. He looked back to Jacob to see him waiting with an eyebrow raised for Newt to speak.

“Well I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what’s going on?” Newt said sheepishly, hoping his voice didn’t ooze as much embarrassment as he felt.

“Ah, since you asked,” Jacob began, smiling almost triumphantly at Newt, “because you decided that we don’t have enough info to know what’s attacking, we’re going to Henry Shaw Senior’s big ol’ party to see what we can find out from that crowd. He’s the news guy with the senator as his son. I don’t know why he’s throwing a party but this guy just likes to show off what money and knowing the right guy can do.”

Newt was not a partying type of person. He thought that their group of four was already quite the party. Newt did not think that this party sounded like a good idea, and he debated quickly the pros and cons of staying right where he was and allowing the others to go without him. Yes, this seemed suitable. Except… Newt thought of the potential obscurial. He had to go. He would do whatever he could to get to the bottom of these attacks. Somewhere out there was a scared child, dying and probably alone. Sudan would be a learning experience, not an example. There was no choice but to go to some stupid lavish party thrown by some powerful, wealthy man. If it meant finding the obscurial, Newt would go. Newt was needed.

“How big, exactly, is this party going to be?” Newt huffed.

“Big enough that no one will think twice about us strangers wandering in.”

“Oh…”

 

Newt pointed his attention to everything other than the party on the walk there. They couldn’t apparate, not wanting any chance to be caught using magic. Tina said that he was pouting, but Newt wasn’t pouting, just slightly hysterically attempting to mentally prepare himself for the mass of social interaction he was about to be tossed into the midst of. What he wouldn’t give to turn invisible like Dougal. Ah, not a safe thought. Thinking of Dougal only reminded Newt of his lost friend. Newt wondered how Queenie managed thinking her thoughts and hearing everyone else’s at once. He could barely manage his own set of thoughts.

Newt only looked up from the heels of Tina’s shoes when the sounds of chatter intensified times a thousand. They were at the party. Newt didn’t even dare look back to see how they had gotten in the grand hall they now stood in, just off center. Out of the way of the exit, and out of the way of the party. Though the presence of all the living, breathing people around them was not unnoticed. Not wanting to look at the masses of people, Newt looked straight up. High, wide ceilings with bright chandeliers led to a second floor balcony where a few people were milling about, some leaning over the balconies’ wide marble rail, watching the party. The whole room had a cream color scheme, with touches of a shiny gold. Newt thought the large hall was one of the loveliest muggle rooms he had seen. The balcony’s rail was broken every few yards by large columns that created little archways on the lower floor. Past the archways on the left were seemingly endless tables of food. There was a small crowd there, naturally. On the left side of the room, the archways hid a set of heavy marble stairs that led to the second floor. Newt already had plans to take those stairs to the less crowded second floor’s balconies, where he would hide for the entire night if he could help it. Newt let out his last calm breath and looked across the people out on the floor. There was very easily over a thousand people. Newt decided to ponder the large band occupying a huge stage along the back wall of the room. Newt was no musical expert, but he liked the jazzy tune that he could barely hear. How many people did it take to play a song? Enough to make Newton Artemis Fido Scamander want to faint.

There were people dancing, many more socializing. They were all over the dance floor, near the band, crowded by the food, others huddled by the entrance like the trio of magical people and their token muggle. Newt decidedly made a rounded path for the stairs, avoiding large groups. He heard his name called, and almost smiled when he heard the reluctant footsteps behind him. They wouldn’t get anything done standing by the door, but Newt would have to be out of his mind to approach the heart of the party. This was the most terrifying beast Newt had ever encountered, and it wasn’t a beast, just a party full of people. Which to Newt, said a lot.

He quickly ascended the polished white stairs and found an empty section of railing. He turned for the first time to watch the sisters approach him, and behind them, Jacob puffing up the stairs.

Newt opened his mouth to speak, but upon seeing the exasperation on all of their faces, he decided against it and turned to look out over the party. The other three fell in a line beside him to view the belly of the monster from their vantage point. Newt supposed it would be helpful to know which of these people were important. Newt turned to Jacob, who laughed at something across the hall, meaning that a second later, Queenie laughed at something across the hall. Newt didn’t even need to see Tina’s face to know she was rolling her eyes. Jacob pointed out Henry Shaw the senator and Henry Shaw senior. The old man was gesturing wildly about something impressive with one hand, a drink in the other, entertaining a large crowd near the stage. The younger Shaw was across the room near the food, doing just about the same thing. Like father, like son, Newt supposed. They didn’t look like spectacular people, but with the way they held themselves, and the crowds that surrounded, their social status was evident. Newt was trying to equate that family to a family in the wizarding world, when Tina let out a small gasp, ducking below the rail to not be visible. She then crawled across the floor to stand up again only when concealed by a pillar.

She and Queenie shared a knowing look before Tina aggressively demanded to know why “they” were at the party. Jacob asked who “they” were, but his question was muffled by Queenie’s firm hand in his, dragging him away to investigate. This soothed Tina, but only made Newt’s curiosity grow. Sensing Newt’s impending interrogation, Tina peeked out from behind the column, satisfied that she would not be spotted by whoever she was freaking out about. Tina slapped her palms flat against the surface of the marble rail, still looking out at the party.

“I never told you how I lost my job, did I?” Tina asked, surprising Newt. He shook his head no, almost more confused than before. “Well, look over there,” she said, pointing subtly at an arch along the opposite side of the room, where only a few people were mingling. A small group stood out among them. A woman and what appeared to be her two children, one a girl no more than 20 years old, dressed modestly in dull clothing. She was standing close to the woman Newt assumed to be the mother, who was dressed just as modestly. They appeared to be having a conversation. A sizeable distance to the right was a boy, also no more than 20. He was standing stiffly, staring at the floor. He was standing far enough away from the other two that the only indication that he was with them was the dark attire and the way he stood. The rest of the hall was filled with color and excitement, but the three of them looked about as excited to be at a party as Newt felt. Newt noticed Queenie and Jacob snaking through the party towards the drab group. He tore his eyes away from them to glance back up at Tina.

“I assume you mean the three that look like they’re here for a funeral,” Newt stated, rocking backwards and forwards slightly, holding onto the marble of the railing. Tina nodded gravely. Something about them made Newt furrow his brows. Had he seen them before?

“Do you remember bumping into me at that meeting outside the bank?” Tina continued. A spark of memory hit Newt. He _had_ seen those people before. No wonder they looked familiar.

“The Salem people?” Newt asked. Once again Tina nodded. Tina looked like she didn’t know what to say next. He thought for a second then added, “What about them?”

“She-, that lady is kinda’ the ringleader for the Salem people around here. On top of that horrible thing, she’s adopted those kids and another one that I suppose she left at the church. She’s terrible, Newt. She beats those kids real bad, but Credence, the boy especially- he gets it the worst. I watched her for a while but it became unbearable. I attacked her while she was in a meeting with the other Salem crazies. I was just so tired of her hurting them, but it turned out to be some big scandal and they all got obliviated. Which is how I lost my job.” She sighed as she said this. Newt didn’t need to hear her sigh to see how distraught she was.

The boy especially… Newt stared at the hunched over figure. Credence. Something made him look up. Newt could see his face, not well from the distance across the broad hall, but he could still see that Credence was not okay. Given what Tina said, it was no wonder he stood so far from that woman. Newt wondered what a boy like Credence would be like if he didn’t live with an abusive adoptive mother. He was reminded of a little owl he used to have back at Hogwarts. It was small but held enough excitement for an entire owlery. It had the biggest sparkling eyes, named Rigel after the brightest star in the Orion constellation. After the beast incident that got Newt kicked out of school, some older boys had taken it upon themselves to break Rigel’s wings. It took months of rehabilitation and careful care to get Rigel back to the way he was. All that time for just one incident. So what happens when a bird’s wings are broken constantly? Newt had closed his eyes to hold back any tears that might come when thinking of his owl, but he forced them open. He looked at Credence again. How many times had his wings been broken? Newt Scamander did not see a boy worthy of abuse. He saw a flightless bird, and if nothing else, Newt was good at helping hurt creatures.

The song that the band was playing came to an immediate stop, startling Newt out of his daze. He had been staring at the boy. And the boy, Credence, had noticed. If it weren’t for the amount of space between them, their eyes would have met. Though with this span, Newt could only assume Credence had actually seen that Newt was gazing straight at him. Newt’s cheeks were dusted with pink, but no one saw. Tina was leaning entirely across the balcony, staring straight down. And Queenie, ah, Queenie and Jacob were making their way back. Tina stood up at their arrival, anxious in anticipation. Queenie stopped, holding Jacob’s arm with both of hers. As she began to speak, her eyes flickered to Newt with a touch of insight. He turned away from the balcony to fully face her, turning a bit redder.

“We might have a sort of situation,” Queenie began, her hands nervously moving along Jacob’s sturdy arm. “The Barebone family is here because of the news building attack. They took in a story about the attacks being witches, and they were turned away at first, but then Mr. Shaw’s office was destroyed and he believes ‘em now. They’re gonna print that story soon. They were invited as an apology for doubting their story’s credibility. So here they are.”

“I gotta go tip off some Aurors or something,” Tina said, frantic with this news. Newt decided that if he ever wanted to panic Tina, all he needed to do was involve MACUSA in some way. She hurried down the stairs, promising to be back after sending an anonymous emergency owl.

When she had disappeared, Newt turned back to the rail, noticing that Credence had moved from his spot. He was walking to the food tables, which were just as crowded as before, even though the floor was filled with couples dancing together to a slower song.

Queenie tapped Newt on the shoulder, having let go of Jacob specifically for that purpose. Newt felt special if he had separated the inseparable. Queenie quirked a smile at that thought that streamed through Newt’s head, but then her face turned somber.

“Tina told you about Credence, didn’t she? I didn’t want to say anything in front of her because of what happened, but he’s not doing so hot right now. He was beat-” Queenie flinched lightly, “pretty bad the other day and his mother yelled at him to not be seen near her while she was here.” Her eyes were full of the same sorrow that he saw in Tina’s eyes. One of them had seen it firsthand, the other had heard it from the thoughts of the boy himself. Newt had only been passed along information, and yet he realized that the wellbeing of the boy was somehow very important to him. Newt thought maybe it had to do with Rigel, but when he looked at Credence he didn’t see his hurt owl, he saw a person. A boy. A tidy mop of black hair standing awkwardly at the edge of the crowd near the food table, not able to get any closer due to the people in his way. He watched Credence step backwards quickly as someone standing in front of him shifted, edging Credence even further from where he was trying to be. Newt considered for a moment if the jolt of pain in his heart at the lost, lonely boy was a health concern. One look at Queenie, who was sniffling onto Jacob, told him all he needed to know. Newt walked down the stairs purposefully. God damn it all if he couldn’t at least help that boy get a snack.

His left foot hit the ground floor and his adrenaline rushed like it had been anticipating this very moment. Had the music always been this loud? Curious glances were shot at Newt, moving determinedly through the crowd. Only vaguely did he even notice a young woman in a sparkling dress asking him for a dance. He didn’t mean to be rude but he already had an agenda. Feeling impolite for only a second, he told himself that he wasn’t a dancing person anyways and shook the encounter off. He tried to stay to the outside of the crowd, not wanting to disturb their important conversations or even more important swaying. More immediate in the wizard’s head was the plan of how to approach the boy. Approaching a creature was easy. They all reacted instinctually for the most part, with only slight change depending on their personalities. Humans were a far different story. They reacted with a mix of instinct, habit, personality, intention, what they wanted other people to know, and what they wanted to seem like. There were too many variables. Should he let on to Credence how much he knew? Was he actually as scared as he looked or could Newt act confident? Of all the options, none seemed right. Newt found that it was too late to debate any longer. His feet had stopped moving, and the density of people around him had thinned out. He looked up and saw that he was only a few feet away from Credence, who had seemingly given up approaching the table, and was leaning against a column. He was staring at his feet again, but from this proximity, Newt could see him clearly.

His dark eyes were downcast. Newt could still see their dark brown color. Under his eyes were thick shadows, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. All of Credence’s thin frame was sharp contrast. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten well, or slept in weeks. This had to be the outward effect of the Salem woman. His sunken cheeks were testimony to that. Newt realized he had been visually tracing the boy’s razorblade jaw and slender face for perhaps too long when he noticed the Senator’s crowd slightly dispersing. The senator himself was strutting towards the stage when he glanced at Credence and stopped in his tracks. Did they know each other? He was beginning to speak, so Newt lurched into motion, deciding to casually walk past them to hear what the Senator would say. Newt couldn’t even use his own philosophy to keep himself from worrying. He felt protective of the dark, thin boy. Newt resolved to deal with these unrecognizable feelings when he had time to think.

Credence looked up, startled by the appearance of the man in front of him, stepping into his personal space. Immediately a flash of hurt and fear crossed his face. His eyes were wide as he tried to step back, but found no place to go with his back already to a pillar. Newt was mad. No matter what that man was going to say, the amount of pain in those soft brown eyes was a crime. Newt moved nonchalantly into hearing range, appearing to be making a lazy route towards the tables along the wall.

“-a freak. I don’t give a damn if your _momma’s_ witch story sells like hotcakes or if my father thinks you’ve become acceptable _guests_ here because of it. You’ll always be a freak. Lower than the rats in the gutter. You ought to go crawl back in a grave, where you belong.” At the last word, Henry Shaw straightened up, and continued towards the stage, shaking hands and smiling along the way. If looks could kill, Newt would be convicted of murder twenty times over. How dare a man like that exist? A grown man acting like a schoolyard bully. Unacceptable. His furious gaze melted when he heard a soft sniffle. Credence was shaking like a leaf. His eyes were scrunched shut and his whole body looked like it might collapse. Newt wasn’t articulate in understanding his emotions, but he knew it when his heart broke.

The crying boy jumped like a startled cat when the lights in the hall dimmed and a hush fell over the partygoers. Their attention was all focused on Henry Shaw senior, standing on stage next to a microphone. Almost every person shifted towards the center of the hall, so Newt had no idea where the rest of his group was anymore. This was Newt’s time to move. He knew what he was about to do was risky, but after watching a wet streak run down Credence’s cheek, Newt knew there was no talking himself out of his decision. With absolutely no attention on him, he cleared his head and filled a cup with whatever was in the big punch bowl, and stepped right up to the boy, standing almost exactly where the senator just stood. Credence looked up with the same expression, this time his radiant brown eyes glazed over with tears. His expression switched to confusion as Newt wordlessly nudged the cup into Credence’s hand. The boy’s eyes were still watering, and from this closeness, Newt could see the dampened, long eyelashes that sparkled like stars from the dim light emitted from the stage reflected on his tears. Credence looked as if he was trying to remember how to speak, so Newt took the chance to give him a yes or no question so he wouldn’t have to speak.

“Could you trust me for a second, Credence?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Credence was positively _floored_.  Just seconds ago he was reliving hell, but now he was staring up into the gentle eyes of a complete stranger who knew his name. A stranger who had seen him crying and brought him a drink while every other person in the room was devoting their attention elsewhere. Shouldn’t this man be listening to whatever speech was being given? And yet he was here, close enough that Credence was subconsciously basking in the body heat the stranger radiated like a warm fireplace. The strange man was close enough that Credence could count the freckles across the nose of the reddish-haired man. Quite flustered, he realized that the man was still waiting for an answer. A pang of panic struck Credence when he realized he had no idea what to do. The whole situation reminded him of Mr. Graves… except this stranger seemed nothing like Graves. Graves wanted something from Credence. Credence could feel the vibe of wrong that came from the wizard who practically pinned him up against his own front door. This stranger, in his bright blue coat, with his bright eyes of an indescribable color; he was good. Credence had to be right. The only thing he could sense from the man was warmth. The only thing he could see was the gentle eyes that affected him in a terrible way. The stranger’s lips turned up in a small smile when he noticed that Credence had mostly calmed down, staring straight back into his eyes. Credence took a deep breath, trying to stifle the last of his soft sobs. He even had to smell nice, didn’t he? The stranger smelled like autumn. He was crunchy leaves all piled up, and crackling wood burning in a fireplace. Was this man magical too, or just an angel? Credence didn’t know, but he made up his mind that he didn’t care.

“I can trust you,” Credence whispered. At that, the man’s smile grew wide and his eyes sparkled with… tears? Credence’s heart stopped for a second when he thought he had already managed to upset the man. That thought left his mind when his fingertips felt a warm sensation of touch. The man had delicately taken Credence’s hand. Credence pressed his hand firmly into the stranger’s, the surprise of his own actions causing him to drop the cup of punch that the man had kindly given him. He never heard it hit the ground, however, because the man was already leading him away. They were headed towards the doors. Credence looked back for a moment, concerned by the thought of his mother. If she knew he was sneaking away, she would beat him. In fact, Credence knew he was going to be belted for this when he got home. But when he looked at the blue coat he was following, that worry melted away. Something about the stranger made him feel safe. He could’ve even laughed. They came to a stop once they had made it out the doors. A woman was approaching them, looking like she recognized the man.

 “Newt! Everything’s taken care of, I don’t know if it’s because my owl was anonymous, but the Aurors said they were gonna straighten everything out. And-” she paused, finally noticing Credence tucked shyly behind him. She glanced down at their hands, still intertwined. Her mouth formed an “o” shape and she garbled a few words, eventually pointing at the doors of the building and waving before stalking through the doors. Her heels clicked away until it was just them again. The man’s name was Newt, then.

Newt squeezed Credence’s hand lightly, causing him to look up. Newt looked redder than before, but his soft smile was the same. The night around them was quiet and dark. Buildings all around were dark, with a few lights up and down the street.

“Where are we going?” Credence asked.

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far. I just figured you didn’t seem like you were having fun at that party, and neither was I. Where do you want to go?”

Credence thought for a second, stared at Newt for another second, and stated that he wanted to go to the roof. He had a sneaking suspicion that Newt was a wizard like Mr. Graves, but there was only one way to find out.

“I’m guessing you have me quite figured out then?” It was Newt’s turn to assess. Credence could feel the calculating gaze of the possible wizard. Newt’s face scrunched up, deep in thought about _something_. Then he lit up. Whatever Newt’s epiphany was, he wasn’t going to straight out share what was on his mind. “Credence,” he said, slowly, “how old are you?”

Credence didn’t know how old he actually was. He also had no idea what Newt was getting at, but it seemed important, judging by the heavy silence that fell over them. Credence’s hand involuntarily twitched, reminding him of the hand still clasped onto his own. His neck grew hot, and he watched Newt blush too, looking at the ground behind Credence. No. He knew nothing about Newt, but he seemed to have quite a hold over the man. Though Credence wasn’t used to having the upper hand, he would at least focus on finding out what he wanted before getting gooey eyed over a person he had never seen before.

“I’ll tell you if you take me to the roof. And you have to tell me how you know my name,” Credence demanded. Even his most commanding voice was meek. But Newt didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he smiled more. Newt’s happiness made Credence feel like he was floating. He was so confused as to why. He would have time to think about it later. Right now, the cool breeze nipped at Credence’s nose, and the hand tightened in his again as Newt apparated them.

 _Well_ , Credence thought, he’s _definitely_ a wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! once again thanks for reading if you got here! This was impossible to write I swear I spent at least 2 hours just staring at my computer. They finally met!! I love fics where Credence is a soft lil tiny hurt child, but in cannon he had a moment or two of "I'm at least going to try to get what I want" so I kinda wanted to give him that here.
> 
> oops incoming ramble:  
> This is probs cheesy but I'm emotional, sue me. I wanted to give a quick thanks to you people for so much kindness. This is my first time putting something I've written out into the world, and you guys are so, so nice and I swear I cried a little when I got an email saying that I had comments on this! I've always liked to write, but sharing writing is kinda scary, so really, thanks for your reads, or comments, or kudos, (&bookmarks, though I'm fairly new to this site and don't really know how those work). Anyways y'all are truly the highlight of my life thank you so very much <3


	4. A Worry, A Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though the words were meant to make him happy, Credence couldn’t help but feel something gaping and empty inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! real quick: I'm super sorry this took so long and just as sorry that it's short but I swear I'll make it up I'm just struggling rn

Credence didn’t think he had _ever_ spoken with such conviction. He became aware of their feet being on solid ground, but whether they were on the roof or not was to remain a mystery until Credence could convince himself that he wouldn’t turn into dust and blow away. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the ethereal face of the man he met, supposedly named, “Newt.” If he had dared to speak to Mother like that he would have been whipped until the blood soaked leather of his belt hit bone. Maybe an exaggeration, maybe not. He didn’t know because he would never in a million years venture that territory. Newt, he must want something. He had to. Credence felt dizzy, and considered whether or not it was an effect of the apparation. He was almost used to it because of the amount of times he had been apparated by Mr. Graves when the man came to check up in his progress. Case in point, everyone wanted something.

Graves had wanted to find the child witch that was somehow connected to the church, and he had only given information that the child was young, and would become close to Credence. That was of no use. All the children were young, none of them acted like witches, and Credence was not one to be close to anyone, much less a child whose name he wouldn’t know. He was failing Graves. But Mr. Graves had promised to take him away and teach him magic. Credence doubted that he would, but it was a nice thought. He wondered what would happen if he spoke to Mr. Graves the way he spoke to Newt…

Credence was finding it increasingly hard to breathe. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he opened them only to stare at his shoes so that he could try and bring himself down. The shadow was itching under his skin, and he could almost see angry clouds of black swirling in the palms of hands. He was suddenly reliving every strike of the belt against his body. He was feeling incredibly drained, energy sapping from him like the slow ooze of a cut. Now was not the time. But he didn’t know when the time was, nor could he control it, though it was proving to be extremely inconvenient that _now_ was the time. Everything was crashing in on him in waves. Waves of fear, hot and frigid all at once. Waves of confusion. Waves of uncertainty. Most of all, waves of the angry soot cloud, threatening to tear his body apart. He knew that Newt would leave him as soon as he saw the breakdown that Credence was about to hit full force, but he was eternally grateful that he had been dragged out of the party before he could end up falling apart in a crowded room. He had been so numb, and everything was going so well before. He had been able to stave off the shadow and push away any pain. He even managed to become detached as his own belt sliced the palms of his hands once again. But now his true freakish nature reared its ugly head. He could see every disappointed look Graves had given him upon realizing that Credence was unable to find the witch. He could hear the word “freak” ringing in his ears. He was incapable of controlling himself, even in front of a kind stranger. How could he be so weak? Credence slumped to the cold, hard ground like a ragdoll, his hand slipping out of Newt’s with only the soft whisper of their physical contact being lost.

He couldn’t feel the tears on his face. He couldn’t feel anything except for the cold, lifeless vibration of the black mass, ready to release the ache of being exactly what everyone said he was. He was a freak. He would always be the sinful, worthless creature that he was born as. Newt had to be watching him, seeing the fragile thing that was him. Credence’s brain rattled on and on, each hateful thought after the next reminding him why he was on the ground, about to succumb to the inky black monster right in front of someone that he didn’t even know. He hadn’t realized the swirling black that was taking over his body, leaving him only partially solid. Another thing he seemed to overlook was that he was hardly breathing through the violent sobs that now wracked his body.

There were hands on his chest. He was firmly guided to lay on his back, and through the watery filter over his eyes, all he saw was a smear of bright blue next to a black sky. The wintery breath of the night swept over him, chilling the tear streaks on his face. The hands smoothed back Credence’s hair. The blue disappeared. Then the blue, the coat Newt had been wearing, was over Credence like a blanket. Credence felt like he was shaking, but not necessarily from the outside weather. His quivering did not leave as his head was lifted slightly for Newt to sit, thus laying Credence’s head across his lap. His ears were ringing and his head was buzzing, but he strained to hear the man as he spoke. The voice sounded as if it was on the other side of a thick pane of glass, but it spoke nonetheless.

“Credence, Credence! Can you hear me? Are you listening? Please breathe more. You’ll be okay, I won’t let anything hurt you. You’re safe, you’re safe with me. Please, Credence... I want to help you, not hurt you. I promise I will never hurt you, please breathe more. I need you to breathe.”

Newt’s murmur struck Credence like a freezing rain. It was all too much. How could this man promise to keep him safe if his greatest threat was himself? Just this small act of kindness alone was something that Credence knew he could never repay. But the least he could do is what Newt was begging of him. In, out. In. Out. _In_. Out... _Innnnn_ , out. His breaths were not consistent, and choking on his own sobs was not the most efficient way to breathe. How was he even a failure at breathing? All that was asked of him was breathing. The man was wasting his kindness on a hopeless person like him. And yet, he seemed perceptive enough to pass as caring. Newt saw Credence’s struggling intakes of air, and the hand was back. This time on his face. The chapped skin of the hand was pressed to Credence’s cheek. The palm was warm, but the tips of the fingers had become icy, exposed to the winter air. A smooth motion dragged the cold fingertips through his hair slowly as Newt’s voice whispered for Credence to breathe in. His hand withdrew, then went again to stroke Credence’s black locks, though this time the whispered words instructed Credence to breathe out. This cycle continued well after Credence had regulated his breathing. The touch lasted long past Credence’s tears. Only when Credence was fully calm, did the movement stop, though Newt’s hands stayed threaded through Credence’s hair.

Credence’s thoughts drifted back to Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves touched him, but only ever briefly, and only ever while trying to speak to him, to convince him of something. Newt’s touch was much more dangerous, because Credence _knew_ what debt he’d have to pay Graves for such comfort. But Newt’s intentions were far from evident. Credence had nothing to give. Even as a person, here he was, falling apart at the seams.

Credence shifted his face slightly, and his nose nuzzled into Newt’s side. He smelled like a soft wool blanket. Newt didn’t react but Credence was petrified. Surely Newt didn’t mean for this closeness to appear. Before Newt could realize their proximity, Credence tried to curl away from him, but the hands were back, holding him calmly in place. Credence tried to look at the other man’s face without shaking too much, but all he could discern was that Newt’s eyes were distant, but his face was soft. Credence had never is his life seen such an expression.

“What do you… what do you want from me?” Credence whimpered. He cursed his weak nature for showing the kindest man he had met this side of him. This felt even worse than the crying in the ballroom before.

Credence couldn’t look up. Even if he had wanted to, there’s no way his rigid body would break the static hold it had over his mind. Something felt strange though. The chilled grip that the winter winds brought had faded. Through some peculiar change in the weather, Credence was warm. Though he had a gnawing suspicion that it wasn’t quite due to nature that Credence felt like a toasty bubble shielded him and Newt, he still could not look up. As bad as he was at eye contact before, now he found it impossible to even face Newt. He figured Newt was a different case at this point anyways. Meeting eyes with _anyone_ was hard, but the way Newt’s piercing gaze split the air just beyond Credence was too… well too magical. Powerfully magical.

“I want nothing from you. I only want to help you. That is, if you’ll let me…” Newt offered softly, speaking as if Credence was a glass that would break.

But he was right, Credence thought, something in him did break. Though the words were meant to make him happy, Credence couldn’t help but feel something gaping and empty inside him. He was not deserving of the happiness that would result from kindness such as Newt suggested. He was probably overthinking. Maybe “help” to Newt meant the comfort that he was giving Credence by helping him calm down this one time. Surely he couldn’t mean the _real_ help that Credence craved like a withering flower craves water. Even just the touch of another person gave him nasty ideas of hope. He would never deserve help, and even if the sympathy that Newt gave momentarily was all that Newt planned on, it was still too much. There was something in the long term that the wizard wanted. He could never repay Newt, and he was already in water over his head with Graves, who he could not please.

Credence trembled again. The warmth here was great, but he didn’t know what Newt wanted, nor was he entitled to the presence of Newt. And yet on the other hand Graves’s pleasantness and gentle touch was becoming more and more distant every time Credence admitted to having no advancement in his search for what Graves wanted. Maybe Graves would leave him. Newt would too as soon as he realized that Credence had stifled his tears. But then why hadn’t he left yet? Credence tilted his head to view the man, having startled himself with his own question. Newt was sitting just as he was before, gazing at nothing at all. This time the blurs of Credence’s tears weren’t present, giving Credence a clear view of the freckled face. Newt drew a deep breath, closing his eyes with a delicate humming sigh. He then seemed to sense Credence had moved, and promptly resumed smoothing the silky black hairs under his fingers. Credence nudged against the touch without even realizing. All he noticed was that it had grown darker outside since Credence last looked at the sky. The span of the black night was less harsh with Newt’s face obstructing the view. It wasn’t a bad view. Credence couldn’t see past the halo of stars aligned around the reddish curls in his line of sight. A prick of water curled around his lash line. Newt was an angel. Angels might not even exist anymore if magic existed, and what of a god? But that didn’t even matter because a man so beautifully tender-hearted existed that Credence couldn’t help but cry again. Long forgotten was the evil swirling blackness in the company of such intense good and light. But it wasn’t fair to anyone else. What about the friend Newt spoke to? His friend, likely more than one by the way she spoke, probably needed Newt more. Credence already missed the charitable attention he had been granted.

“You should leave. Your friends probably miss you.” Credence said, voice more resolved this time around. He added in his head that Newt also shouldn’t be around people like him, but didn’t admit the thought out loud. At the very least he could hold back the self-depreciation that Newt would not presumably find the humor in that Credence saw. Because it was certainly comical that a despised member of society such as him was interacting with the likes of the blue coated foreigner.

Credence couldn’t let his eyes stay on Newt’s face, just in case Newt looked at him to respond. Though, he really wasn’t expecting much except for Newt to push him away and leave silently. Hopefully the man would realize how ridiculous it was to be around him and leave before Credence’s attachment to the thick blue coat could grow any more. Or before Credence could break down again. He winced at a slight movement under his head. The movement of Newt’s leg shifting. Credence did all that he could to prepare for the withdrawal of heat that was coming next… But the leg stopped moving, as if the action was merely meant to marginally alter the position of Credence’s head rest.

“Then how would you get off the roof?” the lilted voice impishly asked. There was no way, Credence thought, that Newt was making such a joke. His peripheral vision told him that the man was in fact smiling. Which either meant Newt was making a joke, and wasn’t planning on leaving, as the leg movement suggested, or it meant that Newt was fessing up to his secret cruel side. Credence didn’t have enough people skills to discern, but if his luck was usual, he’d spend the night in the cold on the roof. The reality of the potential situation took a second to hit him, and it did so with a twitch of the inky blackness vocalizing a vague threat in the back of his mind.

Newt’s face contorted into a fresh worry. Oh, Credence thought, maybe he didn’t actually have plans to leave Credence outside on a roof. Before Newt took it upon himself to smother out Credence’s fear with more hair petting, Credence sat up. The warmth was immediately missed, but sitting as close as he was, the subtle waves of body heat from Newt still hit Credence, not letting him shiver.

“I don’t even know your name, you shouldn’t care about me…” Credence tried.

“Newt Scamander, at your service. And you are Credence… ah…”

“Barebone,” the smaller boy breathed. Credence was slightly in shock at the overwhelmingly pleasant tone that “Newt Scamander” spoke in. He didn’t need to keep speaking though, it seemed Mr. Scamander had taken their introduction as a place to start a happy conversation.

“Pleased to meet you, Credence,” he began with a distant twinkle in his eyes, “as to how I knew your first name beforehand… I have a dear friend who has been very concerned about you, for good reason come to think of it. I think you’ve figured out that I’m a wizard, hm?” he inquired. His tone was still gentle and bubbly, leaving Credence to sit in awe for a moment before he could nod. Barely even paying attention to Credence’s response, Newt carried on. “So the reason I was asking your age is because perhaps you’ve realized that you’re a bit different from the everyday person? The black smoke thing?”

Now Credence was _really_ concerned. Of course he had seen it, he helped Credence through not succumbing to it just moments before. But it felt so taboo to be acknowledging its existence. He felt exposed and scrambled to make up for the vulnerability that he hadn’t realized he showed so heavily.

“It only happens when I’m upset. Uh- _very_ upset. I can make it stop most of the time.”

“Incredible! Credence, you don’t even know how fantastic you are, do you?”

If Credence had been shocked before, then he had no idea what to call this. He must be asleep dreaming.  But even then, this was the most comfortable he had ever felt while sitting on a roof so it must be worth sticking through.

“Mr. Scamander I think you’re probably wrong,” Credence answered. But his response only made Newt more ecstatic. Though, a fraction of the light in his blue or green or something colored eyes paled. Whatever it was made Credence feel like he had just lost something. But Newt carried on.

“I’m going to explain this to you because I truly think I can help you with it. But I can only help you if you let me. At least right here right now, Credence. Will you let me help you?” Newt asked. He was rocking back and forth slightly, eyes not entirely meeting Credence’s, but rather settling somewhere near his shoulder.

Credence might be selfish. He didn’t care. It took him only an ounce of thought this time. He nodded. Whatever this was about, Newt knew more than he was letting on, though he was already letting on that he knew quite a bit. Credence nodded.

“Thank you. Now, Credence,” Newt said, hand reaching to take Credence’s in a comforting way, as if it was the most natural thing. He was glad for the warmth, though confused as to why this would happen. He also didn’t really know what made Newt keep saying his name like that, softly, like it was an important word and not just any word that he could spout on a whim. Even if Newt spoke a different language, Credence couldn’t help but think he’d have no choice but to hang on every word. “You are what the wizarding world calls an obscurial. Allow me to explain…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you're reading this then thank you for doing just that. I have had the most hectic week and I apologize. It snowed and iced a ton where I live, so I ended up stranded for awhile with some people who definitely do not need to know that I'm writing fic. Therefore it was absolute hell to find time to write. But the snow's mostly melted, and as soon as I can get school mess out of the way I'll have time to write again but as of right now i'm running on maybe 8 hours of sleep from the past three nights and i'm sorry but i'm doing my best to get my life together and I can't promise when the next part will be but I'm aiming for less than a week for now. Hopefully.  
> As always thank you so much and I'm seriously sorry for that^^


	5. A Try, A Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> However it happened, a simple smile turned into something more magical than the whole wizarding world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my wizard god it was so difficult to get here. I have some personal reasons as well as reasons such as "i lost my flashdrive" but here i am, this was hard to write, i love you, i won't leave for that long again because i've already poured so much of my heart & soul into this & i can't go back now so..

“But the difference, the thing that makes your situation so extraordinary, is that most obscurials don’t have the strength to fight past age 10, and they certainly don’t have the control that you have,” Newt finished. He could feel his own excitement, but any subject involving a beast type of thing just managed to get him so riled up. He watched Credence’s eyes flicker with a small light in response to the praise, but it was gone, and then his face was full of concerned confusion again.

“Can I ask a few questions?” Credence shrunk back a little from Newt as he said this, but Newt didn’t blame him. Whoever told Credence about magic had left a few uncomfortable gaps in information it seemed, and whether that mystery person told Credence anything about his situation was still unclear to Newt. Newt didn’t even have to consider before nodding. If anything, he was glad that the boy wanted to know more even after the shock that probably came with the overload of information. Newt didn’t even have to experience Credence’s distress firsthand to be a bit worn down by it. He could only barely imagine how Credence must feel. Credence’s face jerked up when Newt nodded, perhaps not expecting such casual permission.

“Okay… so my first question… does this mean I have magic? Can I learn magic like you or is it just bad magic?” Newt almost couldn’t make out what it was that Credence was mumbling, but when it all processed in his head, he could feel the muscles in his face that were holding up his smile loosen. The magic was still there, just in the presence of a parasite. If Credence could really control the obscurus, then surely he could perform spells, right? Newt cursed the lack of information on the subject. This had to be the first time his knowledge of creatures failed him.

“I’m not entirely sure, to be quite honest. You’ve still got magic, the pieces are all there, but it might take a bit more effort to learn. You’re a special case though, with the amount of power you have, you should be able to. You have to be born with magic, however, which you were. Anyone born with magic can be taught spells, and I’m sure you’re no different.” Newt knew he was rambling, to make up for his uncertainty, but the answer seemed to soothe Credence, until a flash of something new crossed his face. Newt was no expert emotions reader, but Credence seemed really upset for a second. Thinking back through what he had just said, he couldn’t decide what part of what he said could’ve been upsetting.

“I’m sorry, are you upset? I can try to teach you some spells but unless you’ve got a wand it’ll be even harder but-” Newt cut himself off. Credence was shaking his head. The boy had pulled his knees up to his chest, and had his arms wrapped around them. This was a defensive position. Newt was no stranger to this body language. He decided to drop it in favor of waiting for Credence to ask a new question. Letting Credence figure out that Newt meant no harm on his own may take longer, but with a person as fragile as this, Newt would rather not dance on this thin ice.

“That would be too much to ask of you Mr. Scamander. You’ve already been too kind to me. I don’t… I can’t…” Credence was struggling to spit his words out, on the verge of a new set of tears. Every single time the voice of the boy wavered, Newt felt his heart waver with it, whatever it was about the specific sadness of Credence, it was just as heartbreaking to watch as it was to hear about from Tina. Suddenly Newt had an idea. Credence needed a distraction. A topic like this was not good for Credence. He had already been through so much in the past few hours that this had to be like pressing on a broken bone for Credence. The boy had almost gone obscurus and they had only been talking for maybe half an hour at the most. He needed to hear a brighter story. And Newt had just the one.

“Credence, for starters, you should really call me Newt. I’d like to be friends, and you don’t have to talk to a friend like they’re some kind of superior…” He paused his sentence again, this time to revel in Credence’s reaction, rather than be upset by it. A strange, wobbly smile was creeping across Credence’s face. Newt thought it looked like he almost didn’t know how to smile and was just figuring it out now. Oh. Maybe he was, but the blush that spread across his cheeks made up for it. Newt couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the blushing, smiling mess that Credence became. Credence already turned a 180 and Newt hadn’t even gotten to his story yet. Was it truly so great to be offered friendship? Newt hadn’t been through many instances of “friendship” but it was more of semi-sentimental goodbyes than offers. No matter, if it made Credence happy, than surely it was important.

“Y-you… want to be friends with me?” Credence stuttered, ducking his head behind his knees as much as he could. His face flushed even more, and Newt thought that in that moment he wanted to be friends with Credence at least 10 times more than he had mere seconds ago. Had Credence ever had a friend? Newt maybe didn’t have such a great track record with friends but at least he could say he had friends. He had Jacob and the Goldsteins at least. He wondered if they were still at the party. How _did_ they put up with him?

“Of course I do! But I have to warn you, I tend to annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me at all. And I tend to repel people,” Credence said, not missing a single beat responding this time. The only beat missed was one in Newt’s chest. It made Newt smile even more than he subconsciously already was. Credence’s voice was still slightly muffled by his knees, and Newt wanted to get the full effect before he delivered his next words, so he put a gentle hand against Credence’s arm. This startled Credence to look up, their eyes truly meeting for the first time, as before both of them had avoided full eye contact, neither comfortable in such a direct exchange.

Newt’s eyes met the dark jeweled brown of Credence’s, and it took his breath away. He had to remind himself what he was even doing before he could get trapped in the intense gaze. The eyes affected him to his core, but there were no words he could even use if he had to describe what it felt like. It was a feeling of coldness, though in a bright way, and it was a dark gaze, but in a warm way. It was all contradiction and things flipping around in Newt’s guts. It brought a pink to his cheeks that would rival the feathers of his rose colored Fwooper. Luckily, Credence seemed just as affected by the potency of the locked gaze. Newt couldn’t hold it any longer. He fixed his eyes instead on the hand resting against Credence’s arm, letting out a small “um” sound, forgetting all about his line delivery.

“Well…” he managed, “if you aren’t annoyed by me, and I’m not repelled by you, then perhaps we really _should_ be friends, huh?”

Credence had been stiff, but his whole body unwound at Newt’s words. Newt almost missed it, but there was no masking on Credence’s part of how much more relaxed he seemed. Then there was a shaking underneath his hand. Newt was struck with worry. Was Credence going to cry? What did Newt say again? Before Newt could explode, the sound came. It was a soft, whispering sound, strange and unfamiliar. But… it was laughter. Credence was chuckling softly. Newt glanced up. Credence had a thin, but real smile across his face, and his eyes were closed gently, only a slight, shallow crinkle at the corners of his eyes, which were unfamiliar with the expression. Newt let his own smile come back full force. This was what Credence should always look like, he decided. This happiness was right. Newt knew he would do anything to make Credence laugh like that forever. His heart felt full to bursting and for once it was Newt’s eyes watering instead of Credence’s.

Newt knew then what he wanted from Credence. He would do whatever it took to have Credence join him. He thought of Tina and Queenie and Jacob. They would certainly love him. And an obscurial! Newt was almost sure that he could help Credence as strong and capable as he seemed. Newt would have not only a friend but a living study of an obscurial, one that he had already connected to in a way, one that had a bit of control. Though not enough judging by the unplanned building demolition that was almost certainly Credence’s work… but he thought of the reason for the power that the gentle boy contained. That woman… yet another reason to take the still softly giggling boy and tuck him under his metaphorical wing. Thinking of the “mother” of those children sparked a new thought. Who had taught Credence about the magic world? He hadn’t known much, just general information with a few major potholes, and some of his ideas were misconstrued (like the fact that he didn’t know muggles and wizards did in fact somewhat coexist through secrecy on the wizard’s parts, and that there were much more magical persons than Credence knew of, and that magical children could be born to muggle parents, to list a few). That “mother” of his in no way could’ve been the one to teach him about magic. The “magic” she told him about was devil’s work and other such ridiculous nonsense. So then who? Keeping him from whatever unsavory wizard told him lies about the world he belonged to was yet another reason for Newt to take Credence with him.

And Credence… his laughter had quieted to a silent, cat like gaze. His shiny amber eyes watched Newt carefully as the older wizard was previously too lost in thought to be paying any heed to him. Newt payed only enough attention to the boy to startle him by picking his jacket off the cement where it lay forgotten so he could drape it over Credence’s shoulders. His other hand, which he had somehow forgotten about, was still gingerly rested on the coarse material of Credence’s black jacket. In order to not startle Credence any more, Newt left his hand. Not startling Credence wasn’t the only motive. The boy had lapsed into his own state of thought. He seemed somewhat peaceful with the human contact, having seemingly long forgotten the tear stains and the panic of the rocky start to their rooftop interactions, and Newt was more than happy to be a factor in that simple comfort. The nip of the wind bit through the worn-down warming charm, and Newt was fully prepared to renew it, but then Newt was pleasantly surprised into changing his mind.

Credence, perhaps sensing the change in temperature, perhaps tired, perhaps something else, leaned into Newt’s side. It was gentle at first, a faint contact as if he was asking permission in his body language. Once Newt has relaxed out of his startled state, Credence leaned fully in, letting his full weight onto the older of the two.

The contrast of the weight a boy Credence’s age and size should be and the weight that pressed against Newt almost immediately sent him fretting over the dark haired boy, but when he glanced over, Credence’s dark eyelashes were fluttering and his eyes closed gently. And there it was. The final, yet most dominant reason Newt was dying to take Credence under his wing. He cared.

However it happened, a simple smile turned into something more magical than the whole wizarding world.

Newt couldn’t have possibly hoped for a smoother encounter. Well, he could’ve. It wasn’t ideal for the boy to have had such a traumatizing night. But the stars had aligned and at least to a certain degree, Newt felt he had Credence’s trust. Though humans and beasts were very different, Credence’s situation was almost a familiar one. It shouldn’t have been familiar. Aside from matters involving creatures, Newt knew very little for certain, but he knew that he would make Credence _unfamiliar_ with the way fear controlled his life.

“Credence,” Newt spoke suddenly. He hadn’t planned on speaking just yet, but his voice was ahead of him.

Credence hummed softly in reply, sitting up to face Newt. His hair was mussed where his head had been in contact with Newt’s shoulder for what felt like forever, and the sight made Newt’s face crinkle into a toothy smile despite his efforts to be serious. Credence instantly looked down, his face flushing with enough color to be seen in the dim light. He looked angelic. He was pale cream and raven colors blushing against the inky skyline. Newt couldn’t help but think how beautiful the boy was. He was constantly, consistently breathtaking, but the change from the crowded banquet hall to the starlit rooftops was unbelievable. His delicate yet striking features were much better accentuated with happiness than tears.

He had Credence’s attention, and decided to force out the question he’d been trying to ask since he first spoke to the boy. But even with the timing being as ideal as possible (given the circumstances), he found it hard to take the risk. What if he scared Credence off entirely? Not only would that be devastating to Newt and his friends who were just as concerned as he was, it would be quite literally devastating to the city if he continued periodically destroying buildings in his obscurus state.

Newt called Credence’s name again, sighing as he did so.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, too quiet for Credence to understand, but loud enough to gain the boy’s rapt attention. Glowing amber eyes slid to his own, and Newt took a deep breath, attempting to hold the intense gaze.

“Would you perhaps- would you have any interest in coming with my friends and me? You would be more than welcome. You’re magical, Credence. Whoever taught you about wizards did it wrong and I can teach you. I can- I want to help you. I need to help you. I can show you how wonderful the world is. How you’re a part of it. You... You’re fantastic and I don’t want to see you cry again. You have been hurt by so many people and you don’t deserve any of it and…” Newt could feel how his question had turned into rambling, which in turn had turned into… Newt sniffled, wanting to wipe his face, but simultaneously not wanting to draw attention to the overflowing wells of tears in his eyes.

The distant murmur of the rest of the world faded to nothing. The wintery chill was gone, and the lights of the buildings were as far away as the stars. His breath dragged in and out.

He thought of the way the woman who was supposed to be Credence’s “mother” treated him. He thought of the way the muggle senator treated him. He thought of the way Credence was scared and uncertain about everything. He thought of the rough, scarred skin that he felt when he first took the boy by the hand. It was all so upsetting. The boy was very literally wasting away and if Credence didn’t want to come with him, he couldn’t force him. That would be dangerous. But Credence would definitely either die or kill everyone around him if that were the case.

What would happen if Credence said no? Would he run away? Would he succumb to the obscurus and destroy the building? How could he live with that? But how could Newt face him after asking something so risky?

“Newt.” Credence’s voice was small, a whisper that was loud as it cut the silence.

Newt dared to face the voice that drew him out of his mental spiral. He forced his eyes to meet Credence’s.

The expression the boy held was entirely unreadable. Credence’s dark eyes searched Newt’s face tirelessly, as if waiting for Newt to realize he’d made some kind of mistake.

“Do you mean it?” He continued, gaze still erratic.

Newt considered not the question, but the reason Credence would even bother to ask. In one night alone the emotional thrill ride was equivalent to strapping his heart and soul onto a furious dragon. But anything he could do, whether it had to do with leaving his mother or taming his magic, he would.

Ginger-y brown hair flopped up and down as Newt nodded, words momentarily evading him until he could reaffirm with a sincere “absolutely.”

Finding himself back in reality, Newt noticed he felt stiff. He had been sitting in the same position for at least an hour. Tina and Queenie and Jacob… Well, Tina _was_ the one to distract him in the first place. She should’ve _known_ what would happen once she told him about Credence. But… He should probably have let them know what he was doing lest they urgently need to find him. Then again, the “danger” was sitting right next to him yawning; tiring due to the late hour of the night.

If Newt felt like he’d been trampled by an erumpent then he could only imagine what Credence must be feeling. His offer was perhaps too overwhelming to have been made on their first meeting, but it had to be put on the table at some point, and the sooner the better for the safety of everyone involved. But…

Credence was blinking heavily, tiredness draped over his lanky frame like a blanket. The cold night left coat material slightly damp to the touch as he helped the boy to stand. Newt stared at the cleaned shoes Credence wore. They were cleaned. Shiny, but not too shiny.

Then, he took Credence’s hand again. The night was beautiful. They both blushed. Newt wondered how many times he would have to literally reach out to someone like this before he got used to having another presence willingly accompanying his like this. Like holding hands. He would eventually get used to it… Maybe.

“Credence, you don’t have to have an answer right now I-” Newt began, but was interrupted suddenly.

“I want to.” Credence said. His voice was unwavering, and tinted with what seemed like hope.

“If it’s not too much trouble and you really want to then I want to go with you; wherever you go. I… I just probably need to go home tonight so I can get my things and sort out the best way to leave.”

Newt couldn’t help it. A grin split his face and he wrapped his arms around his own blue coat, draped over Credence’s shoulders. Credence seemed surprised by the sudden hug, and Newt pulled back before he had to worry about reacting to flash another smile.

“Excellent! Let me walk you home then.”

Their feet became feet on the sidewalk rather than feet on the roof, and after prompting from Credence, they began to walk towards the church, side by side, hand still in hand.

Newt noticed the shy way Credence walked, which was strange to him, as he didn’t know it was possible to _walk_ shyly. But it was okay. It was more than okay, because it suited Credence just as well as the tentative smile Credence sported suited his face.

His feet and Credence’s feet echoed quietly against the cold grey cityscape. There was still a fair amount of comings and goings, but the activity was heavily muted by the late hour of the night. And though there was light in some buildings, the stars still sparkled predominantly. Newt’s very original plan of coming to New York solely for Frank had gone horribly astray, but Newt very much found himself coming to terms with the newer developments.

He nudged the hand in his, and felt the steps in time with his suddenly seem lighter, almost happier. Frank would forgive him, he was certain of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends, u made it to the bottom, i love you, the pacing was super slow for this chapter but i had to, things get more exciting, i WILL update within a reasonable timeframe, any thoughts or things are appreciated in the comments, but fyi i love writing and i will never abandon this y'all just know life gets wilddd nyways love u see u soon


	6. A Bye, A Beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence heard the faint clunk of the front door opening. Speak of the devil, he thought. Ma was back. He went down to greet her and Chastity in order to let her know that she hadn’t abandoned him at the party because he was already home, though she would’ve, no doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm Tired! I Love You! This was Difficult to Write!

Upon entering the front door of the Barebone house, Credence found it thankfully dark and quiet. By some miracle he had gotten home before Ma and Chastity, which would give him at least a bit of time to reflect on what had happened and prepare for the future.

The lady that Newt had talked to momentarily was a woman by the name of Porpentina, or Tina. Credence could almost remember her. She had seemed familiar but Newt filled him in on what he had been “obliviated” of. That was a new word. She was a very good person from what Credence could glean off Newt’s conversation. She was going to go to the magical government to tell them about Credence and about the obscurus, and more importantly how she found someone to take care of the problem, aka, Newt. Apparently this would help earn her job back, which Credence was happy enough to be a part of, considering what she had done for him, and by how highly Newt seemed to think of her.

He looked up and blew out a deep breath that spiraled the dust in the air, illuminated by the faint light spilling through the window. He had a lot to think about, but if he went with Newt, he would have time. This very well could be an escape from his old life, and a way to start anew. He wasn’t able to find the child for Mr. Graves, but their more recent meetings were more violent and frantic on Graves’s part than Credence cared for. His incentive to help Graves was to be shown a world that was different from the one he lived in, but the tall, imposing man resembled his Ma more and more as the days wore on. Not that he was being beaten by the man, but his once kind words had grown icy.

Besides, something he had said in their meetings was really starting to get to Credence for some reason, but he couldn’t put his finger on it…

Being home before the others was truly convenient. _She_ had grabbed him by his hair to her height before they even left for the party and told him that if anyone realized what an outcast he was that he should just go home and not embarrass them. And so the freak was at home, finding his peace with the dark wooden walls and doors and rooms that had never been much of a home.

It only took a few steps to take him to a sitting position at the base of the stairs. It was almost nice to have a moment to himself in the church without having some task to do. Each step had been individually cleaned by Credence himself earlier that week. They were worn down just like everything and everyone in the house, but they had to at least appear presentable. Credence heaved a sigh, nostalgic, but not for his own past. The very first time he had to clean the stairs was as punishment. He had been, and still frankly was confused at how vanity was a grave sin, but Ma was so very obsessed with appearing a certain, put-together way in front of others. Voicing his confusion was neither his first nor last punishable mistake. No, he wouldn’t miss the home or most of the memories, just what it could’ve been, perhaps.

When he was younger, much, much younger, doing something wrong only meant getting spanked or slapped, like his older sister Chastity. Though she wasn’t his real sister, and Ma wasn’t his real Ma. He was more content then. He and Chastity were allowed outside one day when Ma was feeling charitable, to play with the other children. Credence remembers how his adopted sister got along well with the kids easily. He preferred to sit back and watch. He watched alone for a while, but then a boy around his age came along and sat right beside Credence. Then, they watched together. The other kids were playing a game with a ball. Credence’s attention drifted, and then he was watching a girl and her parents walk down the street together. She was eating a candy, holding her mother’s hand.

The tiny boy felt a new emotion that day. The family passing by was so happy. They were affectionate and obviously loving. The sight drowned everything else out into a dull blur, but the vibrant aura that surrounded them buzzed like the fuzzy bees that Credence was not allowed to touch. Why didn’t Credence have a father like that little girl? How come Ma didn’t every look at him or be gentle with him like that mother did? He brought his sticky child hands to wipe his pudgy child cheeks. He didn’t really understand that day and why it had upset him so much until a few days later.

The boy who sat with him had big bright inquisitive eyes. He had wanted to know why Credence was crying, so Credence told him, to the best of his abilities. He didn’t have a happy family like that. His Ma wasn’t his real mother and his sister wasn’t his real sister. Not to mention he couldn’t fathom Ma loving him like that mother loved her child.

A few days later his point was proved. A pair of men from the government had come to inspect their household. Ma acted stiff and strange, poisonously kind to not only them but Credence and Chastity as well. That is, until they left. They had a quiet talk with Ma, then went away. As soon as the last traces of the two men were gone, Ma whipped around and narrowed her stony eyes at Credence. He remembered how his stomach churned and he was more scared than he had ever been in his few years of life. It was his fault that the government was suspicious of them. The boy apparently told his parents who happened to work in the government. Ma knew that Credence wasn’t happy with his life. Credence tried to defend himself. He trembled like a leaf. But he told her that he had only wanted to know where his mother had went and why he didn’t have a family like the one he saw.

And the answer Ma gave him began the transition that changed his life. She criticized him first for acting queerly all the time, sitting quietly like a little girl instead of behaving normally. He couldn’t ever behave normally it seemed. He used to giggle like a girl, and had once kissed another little boy on the cheek after giving him flowers. Credence still felt the shame she had screamed into him after those incidents. He wasn’t right and Ma was growing tired of trying to fix him as he grew into a “young man” rather than a small child. After telling him all of this, she continued on spitting her venom, all the while striking him, which she said was an attempt to make him more masculine.

“Your mother is dead. She came here into my church, birthed her bastard child, and died right here. I’d have too if I was the bitch who carried you. Even if she hadn’t died she probably would’ve killed herself. You’re an ungrateful little sin and I am the only family you will ever have! And if you don’t begin acting right I have no qualms with sending you away. Now, is that what you want!?”

Those words were what the woman who called herself his mother said to him the very first time she truly beat him. He wasn’t even old enough to have lost both his front teeth then. He had sobbed for hours up in his room once she was done with yelling and hitting.

Credence jumped when a door creaked. _Damn this old house_ , he thought. But he was thankful something had dragged him out of his thoughts. He was tired of remembering. He had no real ties. He could do it. He could leave. Once that day had turned to night he was a different child. He became a brainwashed obedient child to the best of his ability, though it mostly didn’t work. However, if he had been himself it would’ve been much worse.

Bones and flesh, aching from the past, turned to carry him to his room. Tired hands met the tired wood of the door, and he entered his room. It was a small room, more of a repurposed large closet, but it at least had a window. There was room for his bed and a single trunk. It was fine. He had no draw to this room, no exciting memories. This was where he did little more than sleep and navigate the mysterious paths of being a growing boy, all alone. He used to share a room with his sisters until Ma decided that he was too old to be in the same room as the girls. He didn’t mind all too much about that, but he did miss talking to them when any of them couldn’t sleep.

Credence put a pause on his reminiscing to kneel in front of his trunk. He had… another set of clothes and a pajamas set of. He had little more clothes than that, but they were on the line drying. If he took them down Ma would be suspicious. Best to leave them. In the form of personal affects, he had a bible, a notebook, a few pens, and a handful of drawings done by Modesty. Credence’s eyebrows scrunched together to hold back excess thought and emotion. He had to leave. He was dangerous. He had to leave.

The breath he drew in hitched, but through an intense yet short battle with himself, he was back to a clear headspace. All he needed to take was his trunk. He would be fine. With that thought, he ghosted down the hall like a shadow, into the bathroom. He washed off, and began sliding on his pajamas. He got his pants on and paused to look at himself in the mirror. Upon locking eyes with himself he realized that he hadn’t actually checked his reflection in a good while.

His ribs protruded and there were splotchy bruises and cuts. His skin was pale and slightly ghastly. His features were sharp. They seemed too sharp. What were people supposed to look like again? He poked and prodded and dragged his hands across every visible inch of his body. The more he looked at himself, the more the image in the mirror contorted until it was unrecognizable. Through all these years, Credence had managed to separate the darkness and the other part of himself, which he liked to imagine was the true him. Sometimes, they melted together, like the way his face looked in the mirror, distorted and disconcerting. Some days were dark, and Credence believed every word hissed at him by his personal black raincloud and by Ma. Some days, however, like from the second he met Newt, he felt distant from the internalized negativity.

He tore his eyes away from his reflection and pulled on the rest of his clothes. His feet were sore from standing in once place for so long, but they carried him back to his room steadily. Pulling up his sleeve to scratch an itch, he frowned at a fleshy red scab. It was well along in the process of healing a week ago, but on the dark days, Credence had a horrible habit of irritating his wounds until they bled again. It felt good in a self-destructive way in the moment, but days after, like as he looked at his scab, all he could feel was guilt. He changed his focus to pushing those thoughts out of his mind.

On the way to his room, his body instinctively stopped in front of a closed door. Modesty would be sleeping in her bed just a few feet away. Credence only debated for a moment before deciding to say goodbye to his little sister before he left.

The door had a creak in it about halfway through the swing open. Credence had memorized the exact spot where it would make the sound. It made a slow, low creak exactly where Credence predicted, and he smiled as Modesty’s sleepy face rose from her pillow at the sound. Her hair was smooth on one side, and frizzy on the other.

She called his name in her soft voice, which made his heart melt just a little. Modesty deserved so much more than the life she was living, and Credence promised himself he would see what he could do about getting both her and Chastity away from the salemers. Witches were real, just like Ma has said, but most of the other things she had preached so often to them about witches wasn’t true. Witches, at least Newt and Tina, were good. And if that fact changed, he would still find a way to help his sisters.

“Hey,” he whispered, walking over to sit on the edge of Modesty’s bed. She sat up only for a moment, then leaned to lay against Credence. He untangled her hair gently.

“Let me braid your hair so it doesn’t mess up.”

Credence had learned to braid a few years ago when Chastity had taught him. It was a skill he was proud of as a brother. He would miss being a brother. He had to leave though. Living in the church was slowly suffocating him. He didn’t belong and it was hurting him, and would start hurting everyone around him if he didn’t find a way to get the evil under control. He had been lucky thus far, but the incidents were becoming more and more dangerous.

Not to mention, going with Newt meant he could entirely avoid the whole Graves ordeal. He was sick of trying to help him anyways. Sick of the way Graves touched him so casually, but so intensely. Every meeting with Graves had a way of making him feel dirty. The man acted so sensual and it drove Credence’s impulse to bend to his will even though it made him feel nauseous. He was probably old enough to be Credence’s dad. Credence decided to abandon that train of thought; he would be able to leave that all behind starting tomorrow when he left everything he hated behind.

Except he _was_ concerned about leaving the only two people he cared about behind. At the very least they wouldn’t be hurt by Mother the way he was. Ma had deemed the girls much better children. The worst that would happen would be her hitting them on the side of the head. It certainly wasn’t love, but it kept them physically safe and it was much better than being in Credence’s boat, he was sure.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when he noticed he had reached the end of the braid he had done. Normally, he wasn’t comfortable with the amount of spacing out he did, but he allowed himself this time.

Modesty’s pale eyes were still foggy with sleep as they roved the person she had come to know as her big brother. She looked confused, and Credence knew he should probably explain himself, but it was hard enough as it was. He felt the tears welling in his eyes and took it as his que to leave. He squeezed his eyes shut as he kissed the top of his little sister’s head, holding back the waterworks. He bid her a goodnight and retreated as she stared after him confusedly before falling back onto her bed.

On the other side of the door, Credence took deep breaths and wiped his rough hands against his soft face. He would start learning about magic soon. He might be able to be a wizard just like Newt, smart and capable. And Newt had mentioned his creatures, which had the potential to be a fantastic bonus to the already very magical world of magic. Credence had doubted for years that witches even existed, but now that he knew they did, the things Ma had told about witches seemed stupid.

Witches weren’t evil. Had Ma ever met a witch? No. Had Credence? Yes. Did Ma ever imagine that witches could be good? No. Were they? Yes.

Credence heard the faint clunk of the front door opening _. Speak of the devil_ , he thought. Ma was back. He went down to greet her and Chastity in order to let her know that she hadn’t abandoned him at the party because he was already home, though she would’ve, no doubt.

Chastity passed him on the stairs, patting his shoulder as she went by. He made it to the bottom of the stairs where the calculating gaze of Ma’s dark eyes met him. Her eyes told him everything and nothing all at once, while holding a generally displeased air towards him, as usual.

“How did it go?” Credence broke the silence, attempting to be civil, not wanting to spark any violence when he was closer to freedom than he’d ever been.

She raised her chin slightly, never breaking eye contact. She looked down at him as she answered with a curt, “It went well.”

Feeling cheeky, Credence followed his question up with a thought he had.

“Do you suppose with the amount of people there, that there was a witcher in that very room?”

“I would’ve known if there was,” came the quick reply. Credence took the statement as bait, unable to contain his boldness with the new, superior knowledge he had sitting on him like armor.

“What if they blended in?”

“I would’ve still known. I’m not a fool, child.”

“But what if they blended in like normal people?”

“What are these wretched questions about, hmm? Think you’ve seen something I haven’t, boy?”

“How could I know? I’ve never seen a witch. Maybe they’re just like normal, good people? Then how could you tell?”

“Do you think you’re toying with me? Do you think your questions are funny? All these years I’ve given you so much. I gave you your entire life and you want to disrespect me!?” She was yelling now, stepping towards him with an angry energy lashing about her like a snake. “You will not live in my home and be treated so well if you cannot show respect like you should. I’m done wasting my time on you. You can’t get anything through your thick, queer skull now can you?! You’re unfixable! You’re a damaged wretch and I never should’ve let that bitch woman into my church in the first place so I never would’ve had to deal with you!”

She was shouting so loudly that her words were pounding against his skull. She continued screaming how only God could save him and she would send Credence to him herself. While she was yelling she was advancing and Credence was retreating. He backed into a table where dishes were drying, and almost didn’t notice the glass shattering on the floor in his frenzied, unexpected fear.

Ma’s eyes snapped to glass shards on the floor, and her fury was renewed. Credence was having a hard enough time digesting the verbal assault, but then came the pain.

Before he even knew what had happened, he was on his hands and knees on the floor, glass biting into his palms and legs. Ma had taken off her own belt and was ripping into Credence’s back more violently than he even knew was possible. Within seconds she had tired of hearing him scream and cry from that simple pain, and she drifted from his back to his legs, arms, neck, anything accessible. He tried to get up and she shoved him down back into the glass with more force than he knew was possible for her to possess. She might not have been exaggerating. He had the very real thought that she might kill him. He might die.

He fought to breathe as his clothes were absolutely drenched in blood and his energy sapped away. He was numb to everything except excruciating pain. He was crying, screaming until he couldn’t even hear himself. His chest was vibrating so loudly his ears might’ve been ringing, but he could hardly tell anyways. Every piece of his entire body was screaming at him, filled with the obscurus. He was quite literally fighting for his life. He may have been no expert on obscurials, but if the darkness took over now, he wouldn’t live through it.

She stopped hitting him. His body was pulsing, pounding with pain and the black thing. The Evil. He wouldn’t bother trying to figure out why she stopped, only relish in the relief, though the pain was still intense enough that the only thing holding him together was the fear of the damage he would inflict if he lost control. All his focus was concentrated on the core of his very being. His head was swimming, and he nearly missed the words coming out of the woman’s mouth.

“This is the last time you will set foot in my home. Clean the glass and get out.”

The two sentences, violent storms all on their own, were punctuated by her footsteps and the sound of the front door. She had left.

Credence tried spitting out the mouthful of blood he had, but that only resulted in him throwing up everything that was in his stomach at the time. He was unable to move away as his own sick pooled around him, soaking his face where he was sprawled on the floor.

A sound. The front door again. Credence flinched, but had no energy for anything else as the heavy footsteps approached him. He braced himself for whatever might happen, closing his eyes. Nothing happened for a few seconds, so he peeked cautiously. There were feet in his line of sight, and though he couldn’t make sense of it, he was certain those shoes were not Ma’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo! if you made it to here then i love you thanks for reading !! I'll try to post again soon! ANy comments and such are highly appreciated ! okay love you bye


	7. A Shoe, A Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shoes. Here was the gamble, and Credence hadn’t much left to lose but his hope and his life.

Credence found himself, during many moments of contemplative aloneness, imagining his future. What would happen to him when Ma died? Would he ever escape the horrible church and its lies? Would he leave Modesty and Chastity behind to make something of his life? Would he be able to? Maybe the darkness within him would destroy him before he got to find out. Maybe he would be like the people in the books Ma had forbidden that Credence read. Any text other than one of Ma’s holy books or church documents was frivolous and therefore sinful. But Credence snuck novels for himself and Chastity, and thin books to read to Modesty. Reading books, actually, was one of the only things Chastity opposed Ma on. Not openly, of course, but she allowed and even encouraged Credence’s criminal visits to the library. Credence read many books about all kinds of adventure and mischief and everyday life, and while Credence wasn’t sure that he quite fit into any of those categories, he wasn’t too bothered, he was more enthralled by the “happy ending” that all of the protagonists seemed to get. All the drama winds down, the hero finds true love, and lives from that point on in bliss.

Credence wanted nothing more than for his tears to somehow wash away the pain of thinking, remembering the final pages filled with love and happiness of which he knew neither. He wouldn’t try to fool himself, he knew he was no hero, but it would be much easier to find a happy ending if he wasn’t constantly dealt cards that led him to destruction and pain. There was a much too familiar feeling in laying on the floor, soaked in blood, and being able to do nothing about his situation except keep his thing, his obscurus at bay.

The shoes. Here was the gamble, and Credence hadn’t much left to lose but his hope and his life. Whoever the shoes that came to a stop in front of him belonged to, that person controlled Credence’s fate like a puppeteer holding a broken marionette.

And so though it hurt like hell, glass digging into his bruised and broken skin, Credence rolled over a little to view the owner of the large, dark boots. Before even looking up, he had a sinking feeling he knew who it was.

Ah, he was close. So close to freedom. He was right about the shoes. The sinking feeling turned into a writhing, burning knot that ate at the sides of his stomach, bleeding the strange feeling into his pounding heart. At the very least he would’ve had a different ending had he escaped with Newt while he had the chance.

Graves looked mad. Angry mad, and insane mad. His usually perfect hair was just enough out of place that it was clear his hands had been run through it repeatedly. 

He flinched slightly when he made eye contact with the (probably) dying boy on the floor. Unlike the night when the two met, this time the man made no effort to disguise his disgust at the pitiful nature of the boy, laying in a puddle of blood, glass, sick, and tears.

Once, when Credence met up with Graves to discuss progress, Credence had been freshly beaten. He couldn’t even remember exactly for what, other than he apparently said something disrespectful during a Salemer’s meeting, and once they were home, Mother let him know how she felt about that, with her words, and his belt. He was jumpy in Grave’s presence. The man noticed, he always did. As he grabbed swiftly for the boy’s no longer smooth wrists, Credence startled like a stray cat, withdrawing into himself, additionally embarrassed by his own reaction. But Mr. Graves persisted, and Credence’s hands were cradled in the older man’s as he did some kind of magic that healed his cuts just enough to ease the biting pain.

The man’s hands, then, were also used to comfort Credence, sliding along his jaw in a tantalizingly gentle caress that was reassuring, and intimidating all at once. 

Graves had said then that he would never hurt Credence. And as much as he had come to doubt Graves’ words in the light of Newt’s truth, he felt just naive enough, or maybe just desperate enough to believe that specific sentiment.

Putting some faith into the clearly desperate man, Credence reached out towards the boot tentatively, praying for mercy.

“H-help,” Credence choked out, feeling a bitter, acidic taste on his tongue.

But help he received, sort of. Graves touched him, and with a pop, he was apparated... a few feet away from where he previously laid. An improvement, yes, though barely.

Though he put on a face that didn’t show it, Credence was slightly fuming. He knew good and well that Graves had the ability to heal him. But if he was going to play that game, then so would Credence. He forced his screeching joints and muscles to cooperate, heaving himself into a sitting position with a gasp. Fresh pain coursed through his body, releasing involuntary whimpers.

The dark, heavy brows in front of him pinched together in a face of concern. Graves leaned forward, placing a hand on Credence’s shoulder. It hurt, but Credence ignored it to brace himself for the relief of a healing spell or whatever it was that Graves did. But it didn’t come.

Instead, “Credence, have you gained any new information about the child?” came the once-soothing voice, now tainted with a noticeable poison of desperation. Slowly opening eyes met the wild ones of the man who had just spoken. They looked as frantic as the rest of him, flicking ungracefully to examine Credence’s, as if trying to see if he could somehow uncover what information he had hidden within. 

Whether consciously or subconsciously, Graves’ grip viced, tightening painfully over Credence’s aching shoulder. He couldn’t hold back a small yelp, squirming under the pressure. It snapped the crazed man out of his daze, and he truly met Credence’s eyes for the first time that night.

“Please, you told me you would never hurt me but you’re hurting me! Please, please...” Credence wheezed, the air in his lungs weak and shuddering.

Graves’ eyes darkened, his stare hardening over the boy, but he relented, loosening his fingers, and letting the alleviating magic touch Credence once more, mending his surface wounds and taking a fraction of the ache away. He had nothing to give to the man. No information. No assistance. In fact, he was very much planning on escaping to as far away from him and the church as he could manage. So he bided his time by closing his eyes to soak in the healing.

His momentary bliss didn’t last long. He had realized during his talk with Newt on the rooftop just a bit of how much Graves had been lying to him, playing him to get what he wanted. So, knowing what little he could offer the man, and what little the man could even offer in return, he chose his next words carefully. He was tired of being stepped on like a bug. His “mother” did it his whole life, and then Graves had done it too. He wasn’t stupid, and though he was somewhat weak, he had something that neither of them had known about. 

Yet he was still walked all over, no concern for his potential, or the things they didn’t even know they could learn about him. They didn’t care. The time of his Graves had wasted... Promising to take him away and teach him magic? Newt hadn’t lied to him, what he had said made much more sense. A person born without magic couldn’t be taught magic. And yet Graves had promised it, a massive bargaining chip in his manipulation of Credence. Well, Credence did have magic, but it’s not like Graves had known that. What was he planning to do if Credence had found the child? Ditch him? Credence allowed himself to get riled up, but decided it would be best to speak before his obscurus burst through him, actively excited by his fury.

Not wanting to give away excessive information, Credence danced around his words, until he strung what he wanted together. Then, he quietly spoke.

“You also told me you were going to teach me magic. You can’t even teach someone magic unless they’re already magic, but you said you’d teach me. Why did you lie?” As he spoke, his volume rose, and his words lost their shakiness. Something about the conviction he was able to muster ran through his veins in a cold pulse. 

It might’ve been impossible, but the obscurus seemed appeased by the confrontational tone he took, and for the first time, rather than endangering and restricting him, it fueled him. Only barely, so little so that he was really only assuming that the obscurus was the source of his momentary courage.

Also as he spoke, Mr. Graves’ eyes darkened. He bristled, his teeth baring like a snarling animal.

Oh no, he is definitely going to hurt me now. Credence thought, wincing at the display of aggression. That was a mistake. But he had to own it. This was either his end or his beginning, and he wouldn’t lose opportunities anymore. He wouldn’t be stopped by someone who didn’t know a single damn thing about him. He was weak, physically drained, mentally terrorized, emotionally distraught, and he was covered in his own blood and sick and he was over it. And he was over showing a side of him to the world that reflected how scared he really was, and how dismal his horrible life really was. It was over. He steeled his face, reflecting no more fear, showing that he would no longer willingly submit to the terror that was the man called Graves.

But Graves didn’t recoil at the blatant defiance. The flow of healing weaving over Credence’s skin through the man’s steady hand abruptly halted.

“Who did you speak to? Who told you things like that?”  
came the stone-faced demand.

Credence heated. He had only just met Newt, but he had a good gut-feeling about him. He should really have known from the start with Graves. “You lied. What does it matter?”

A dark, static-y energy rippled through the cold, dust filled air. Percival Graves stood and turned his back on Credence, stating that he hadn’t the time to deal with “this.” There was the conformation, he was no doubt just a man of lies. The whole time he had distracted Credence with the flashy distraction of magic, while never revealing a single thing about his actual personal self.

“Turn away, coward. You act like some kind of powerful wizard but you’re more of a fraud than the magicians on the street corner. What will you do now? I won’t help you. What’ll you do with the no-maj that knows the secrets of magic?” Credence taunted, high on the verbal power he held, as well as the knowledge Newt had armed him with. Credence wasn’t a muggle. He did have magic, and Graves had no idea.

“Perhaps I’ll take a page from your mother’s book and leave you to die like the pathetic bastard you are.”  
Credence barely even acknowledged that the man had spoken. Any response he might have shot back died in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a petite silhouette at the base of the stairs. Modesty had crept into the corner of the room. 

Hidden in the shadows, her expressions were concealed, meaning she could have heard any amount of the exchange and Credence could only guess. He didn’t, though. He turned his attention from her before he could accidentally reveal her presence. In Credence’s pause of silence, Graves turned back around, his curiosity peaked by the lack of response.

“Of course you don’t even have anything to back up your petty threats,” Credence challenged, fumbling to respond and dissipate the man’s perplexment. His heart wasn’t in the delivery, but it taunted the dark wizard just enough.

“Fine,” He snapped, whipping his wand from his pocket. 

The scraggly stick of a wand crackled and sent a pulse of dark smoke to the ground, sending a ripple of cold air biting through the room in a dangerously dark display of power. Credence wavered, only slightly scared, really. He was starting to get into accepting his fate. He’d had worse. Bring it on.

But as the wand turned its business end towards the boy bleeding on the floor, and the man took a predatory pace forward, a small cry came from the shadows.

“No!” Modesty uttered meekly, taking a hesitant step from the wooden rail of the staircase’s base. The shadow of the corner released her to the moonlit room.

A maniacal smirk curled up stubbly lips, and in Modesty’s newfound silence, a sinister chuckle broke the film of silence that had suddenly coated the air. Pacing the space in front of Credence, the boots found a path, advancing towards the wide eyed child in the corner. 

Credence felt a spike of icy cold terror dump into his bloodstream as his heart pumped a new fear. He was immediately sweating as he hauled himself up to his feet, shoes sliding on the scattered glass, running on only adrenaline and the feeble crutch of the dark monster at bay. In his struggle to stand, Graves had changed his weapon’s target, pointing the wand at the youngest Barebone child.

“Do not touch her,” Credence growled, fury coursing through his veins like it was second nature.

The man huffed, not lowering his wand even an inch, but looking away from Modesty to turn towards Credence. His amused demeanor sent a jolt of electric anger through Credence. How could he be so nonchalant while threating to kill?

“Oh but Credence, you have been holding out on me, haven’t you? This precious cherub must be the fated child. Clearly you’re nothing but a filthy muggle, but here,” he gestured out, almost close enough to touch her face, “here is what I’ve been searching for, isn’t it, Sweetheart?” Modesty took another step back, urgently distancing herself from the man, but he took a step forward, cornering her, and roughly snatched her wrist.

“Well,” he said, speaking to Modesty, who was immediately clawing at the giant hand wrapped around her wrist, “say goodbye to Credence here. What have you got to say, boy?”

Credence was weak, broken down, and now, desperate. This was going to be it for him. All or nothing. Now or never. He began loosening his control over the swirling black cloud within him, now enraged and itching like a plague, rearing to go. It had been fueled by the anger that Credence let through his body, willingly for the first time. And now he was letting it go. Graves’ eyes widened, and his jaw went slack. Graves looked like he couldn’t bring himself to accept his mistake, or even move, as Modesty wrenched her wrist from his shock-loosened grasp. He didn’t even seem to notice as she scampered away to hide. A hint of satisfaction twitched at Credence’s lip, and he spoke.

“I said... Don’t touch her,” and all hell broke loose.

In a whirling spiral of chaos, the darkness engulfed Credence, leaving nothing but blackness where he once stood. He could feel the power in the release, ripping through the walls and floors as if they were paper. His ghostly form raced around the church, buzzing in excitement as he didn’t even try to reign it. He knew he couldn’t have anyways, not at its peak like this. He slowly lost consciousness as it overpowered his being. 

The last thing he saw through the swirling dust and destruction was Graves’ face as he dove straight at him, aimed to strike right at his chest.

————————————————————————————

Newt didn’t think he’d found the wrong place, but he also really, really hoped it wasn’t the right place. The church where Credence lived looked much different in the early morning light, and even more different after it had been heavily damaged. Staring at the obviously recently wrecked building was not exactly how Newt wanted to spend his morning. He had much rather planned on seeing the bright sparkle of excited dark brown eyes. Able to see directly through the shredded frame, Newt could tell there was nobody home. 

Especially not the beautiful boy with a better future ahead of him. That future, however, did depend on Newt’s ability to at least collect him in one piece.

At the very least it was early enough in the day that only a handful of people passed by. Clearly the church was not a trafficked enough place for any passersby to realize the change. Newt looked around him, just to be sure, and then inched close enough to the building to begin magically reconstructing enough of the outside damage so that even when the day came in full swing, there would be no shocked crowds of curious muggles like at the news building. When he was satisfied with his work, he took the deepest breath he could draw, held it, and very slowly breathed out. He needed to find Tina.  
Then, he needed to find Credence. Right now those were his two tasks, in that exact order. And he absolutely had to focus on them, otherwise he might break his rule and worry about the boy, out somewhere in the city. Credence was probably scared and hurt and alone. He could even be in danger. He could... Newt shook his head, dismissing the thoughts, though the lines of worry were already etched on his face. He couldn’t help it though, it was Credence. The boy had it as rough as it gets, and how was he to not be slightly terrified of what could have happened to someone with that much power as well as that much pain.

Newt apparated to the MACUSA building. He had to find Tina. By the most wonderful stroke of luck he had ever encountered, he arrived at the front doors right behind her. He called out to her, and was allowed past the security. She had seen the troubled look on his face, and quickly pulled him down a hallway free of people.

“Where’s Credence? What happened?” she whispered.

“Gone. He wasn’t at the church and the church was destroyed and nobody was inside. He must have been truly threatened in some way to react like that but I don’t know what and now we don’t know where he is but he’s out there somewhere, and-” In the middle of his rambling, Tina put a hand on his arm, stopping his meandering panic.

“Newt. I’ve got a plan. I’ll find a way to get my job back. I’ll tell them about you, the ‘beast expert’ and I’ll tell them about the obscurus that we’re working to catch and they’ll have to back me up because I have information they don’t. While I do that, all you have to do is go look for Credence.”

He stared at her in awe. How could a lady with a focus and a drive like that be fired? She really was amazing. She turned around and marched off, a powerful purpose in her stride.

That was Newt’s cue to leave. For a Hufflepuff, he couldn’t be a particularly good finder, as he still hadn’t found his last two case-escapees, and now he had lost a person too. But not for lack of trying. He would find them even if it meant he had to search for eternity, though he truly hoped it wouldn’t be that long.

Newt’s thoughts were then taken back to the church. There had to be some sort of evidence to depict what had happened, or at least it could be a good place to start, considering he didn’t actually investigate but rather did some cosmetic touchups to avoid the building getting excessive attention. He left the MACUSA building in order to apparate to a hidden area near the church he remembered. Or at least he hoped he remembered well enough. Getting splinched would be a truly unwelcome setback to his search.

Upon arriving at his destination, Newt could account for all his limbs, and made a beeline for the desolate building. He bounded up the single stair and burst through the front door, barely grasping on to its hinges. 

He was met with a terrible, terrible scene. Scattered chairs and tables, and all sorts of papers and books that seemed to have once been on those chairs and tables had been forced all against the edges of the room signaling to Newt that at best, a magical struggle had gone down, and at worst, Credence was in a horrible amount of danger. The sides and back of the building had also been torn up, the wood no match for whatever it was they faced. A staircase at the corner of the room had been snapped like a toothpick and the rooms it led to looked mostly intact, though thoroughly ruffled by the sheer power that had ransacked the place.

But worse was the dark puddle of porcelain and blood on the floor, old enough to have seeped into the wood partially and blackened, but fresh enough to be sticky when Newt picked out of it a large piece of what once was a plate.

Surely, not a good sign. No, and though Newt tried to regulate his breathing, walking in slow circles, the light filtering through windows and making the sad wooden walls glow was not calming enough. He was worrying.  
He was very, very worried about the boy he had only met a night before. How could he not worry? How could he stay composed when each incident Credence seemed to go through was more dangerous than the next? He had to be the oldest obscurial there ever was. He was strong, but so weak and delicate. Newt gripped the shard of the plate. It was pale and broken and stained with blood and it was just like Credence.

His surroundings blurred and Newt found himself on the creaking floor, staring vacantly at his fuzzy reflection in the shard as his mind raced over the possibilities. Why? What could have possibly happened? Was this the doing of his mother? It had to be, hadn’t it? There was nothing else... unless...

Did he simply finally succumb? Surely if Credence had made it this far he wouldn’t have just given in now. He had to have been provoked, but by what occurrence?

Newt couldn’t think any thoughts other than he shouldn’t have let him go back home alone. He didn’t know exactly what he would have done, but he could have prevented at least some of this. Now they didn’t know what happened, where Credence was, or if he was even still...

Newt couldn’t think any thoughts at all. A single glance back at the drying blood told him that he did not want to think about possibilities any longer. He wanted to think about absolutely nothing. Yet he couldn’t, so tears leaked out of his eyes unwillingly and almost unwittingly as he could pay attention to nothing happening outside of his brain. He thought of Tina. She could figure out something, perhaps. Or Queenie and Jacob, even they would have an idea of what to do. But instead Newt was alone and he was useless and Credence could be anywhere in New York or anywhere in the world as far as he knew. Meaning he didn’t know anything.

Instead of having done years’ worth of research and having an incredible amount of field experience, Newt had absolutely nothing to help him. Not even his own mind with the way he found himself panicking.

Though usually sitting tucked away, afraid of the commotion they faced in New York, and forcibly left in the case during any occasion where there was a chance of him being spotted, Pickett was drawn out of his slumber by the distress of his precious tree that was Newton. He crawled up to Newt’s shoulder, chirping, and touched Newt’s cheek with his little green arms until he snapped out of his tearful daze. Though not the first time, Newt couldn’t help but look at his tiny companion with all the love he could muster in his eyes. He had sat and fretted about being alone with no idea what to do but he wasn’t even alone. He almost never was, not with his beloved creatures that understood him much better than any human. Pickett chirped again, having claimed Newt’s attention, and so he wiped his face dry with the sleeve of his coat and made up his mind.

“No, Pickett, you’re absolutely right! What am I doing moping here? It’s not helping anyone. We’d better get searching, our friend Credence could be anywhere right now and he most likely needs our help, huh?”

Newt couldn’t sit and worry. It was against everything he tried so hard to maintain. He put the porcelain piece, the reminder of what he was doing, safely in his pocket, though not Pickett’s pocket. Then, he and his trusty bowtruckle decided to finish going through the house to look for any kind of lead as to where Credence had gone.

Newt pulled out his wand and repaired the stairs enough to use them, and began climbing them, suspicious of the second floor’s untouched appearance.

However, he was stopped in his tracks by a voice calling out from behind him.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's been a long time and I am so sorry for that if there's anyone who cares. I was super busy with classes during the school year and had like no time for ANYTHING so that's cool, and then when summer started I was kinda busy dealing with some depression issues aka I didn't have any motivation to do anything productive which wasn't great bc i was still busy but like I said I'm not going to ever give up on this I have my full plan and stuff so this will be completed and hopefully now at a more reasonable pace. :) Anyways thanks for reading! The comments were also super motivating and really helped me get back into writing since this is my first actual coherent piece of writing ever. Gonna go work on the next chapter now! Thanks!


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